


A Red-Gold Untruth

by iridessence



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood and Injury, Ghost!Minho, Horror Elements, Jisung is an angry boy, M/M, Organized Crime, Past Character Death, Red Market, Slow Burn, Violence, You Have Been Warned, best friends minbin, best friends seungsung, chan is bad with blood, chan just wants peace, frenemies to lovers minsung, hyunjin is lowkey crazy, jeongin is a sickly child, jeongin is a sweetheart, jilix are adoptive brothers, mentions of Chan's siblings, minho really wants a break, the author's stupid humour™, this is going to get messy, very messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 183,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridessence/pseuds/iridessence
Summary: "You didn't break in, did you?""You don't just ask potential axe murderers if they just broke into our house, Lix," Jisung mutters scathingly."Well, you don't just literally throw people out of houses, Jisung," the man, Minho, bites back, equally as scathing.Jisung honestly just wants to live his independent university life in peace. Of course that can never be the case with his terrible luck and even worse friends, and perhaps the fact that he and Felix had purchased a house that was allegedly haunted too. A stranger shows up in his home and Jisung finds himself caught in a spiral of forgotten memories and lies that could put everything he knows and loves at risk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> I've been thinking about this one for a while, and I'm looking forward to writing it, so I hope that whoever chooses to read it enjoys it as well ^^  
> There will be some heavier themes in this, as the tags may suggest, so if you're looking for something more lighthearted, I don't recommend reading this, but if you do wish to read it, by all means carry on  
> Thank you for clicking on this story, I hope you enjoy ^^

“I dunno, Sung,” the blonde mutters, his hand straying behind himself for the steel handle of the car door. Felix’s chocolate eyes narrow slightly, darting around at their surroundings, absorbing everything within his sight range, from the knotted roots of the trees that protruded like veins beneath the skin of the earth to the swallows that roosted in the rotting wood of the eaves of the house, staring back at him and his compatriot with sparkling black eyes. His fingers reach the purchase of the familiarity of the vehicle and curl around it, his gravity settling lower as though he’s preparing to flee the scene. “The previous owners did say this place was haunted…"

Obnoxious laughter rings through the otherwise quiet air as Jisung plants his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out. “Don’t be dumb, Lix—”

“If I have to be called dumb by anyone, it sure as hell isn’t gonna be you, Sung—”

“Don’t interrupt me, I’m your hyung!”

“Jisung, you are literally not even a full twenty-four hour day older than me, calm your junk,” Felix huffs, raking his fingers through his straw-blonde hair, messing with it and letting it fall back into his face, unkempt.

“Irrelevant.” Jisung cracks his neck and flashes the blonde a bright grin. “Anyway, who’s dumb enough to still believe in ghosts? It was cheap, and it’s the perfect hideout to work on projects in peace. You can watch your movies—”

“Film isn’t just about watching movies! That’s like me telling you to go paint your pictures—”

“They aren’t pictures, they’re pieces!”

“My point exactly!”

The pair glare at each other until Jisung huffs and brushes down his clothes (comprised of an untidy set of overalls splattered in acrylic paint and a striped shirt since he didn’t see the point in messing up a perfectly decent set of clothes when they needed to move), turning to grab a box from the passenger’s seat and dropping it onto the earthen ground with a dull thump. “Seriously, Lix, it’s a good place and it was for a good price. You shouldn’t be so worried. You’re the one who wanted to live by ourselves, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Felix pouts, “if you get pulled into the closet by weird paranormal creatures, don’t come crying to me.”

“Hey, I came out of it and I don’t plan on going back in anytime soon, don’t worry your pretty little freckles over it, Lixie,” the young man jokes, ruffling the blonde’s hair. Felix snorts and glances back as the rumbling of an engine draws his attention, disturbing the atmosphere that would have otherwise been disturbed by only him and Jisung.

“What’s going, we heard the noise pollution a kilo away,” Chan remarks, rolling the window down with a dimpled grin as the wheels of his SUV roll to a stop beside them. The moving carrier is hooked to the back of the vehicle and Jisung grins as the curly-haired blonde tosses him the keys.

“It was just Lix being a chicken who’s scared of ghosts.”

“We all know you’re secretly terrified of them too, Sung, you aren’t fooling anyone,” Changbin remarks dryly, rolling down the window of the passenger’s seat to reveal both him and Seungmin, who doesn’t even bother to hide the amused smirk on his lips at the jab.

Jisung shrugs. “Well, we all know that there’s no such things as ghosts in real life. Besides, movies like to exaggerate everything.” He tosses the keys into the air and catches them lazily. “Maybe studying all that film is getting to you, Lixie,” he teases and Felix’s eyes widen in the very picture of offence.

“Hey, they were based on real life events! You gotta learn to question everything!”

“I’m questioning your sanity right about now,” Jisung chirps, traipsing over to the carrier and opening it, pushing the door up and fixing it open. Felix frowns after him.

Changbin chuckles slightly and leaves the SUV, sidling over to the freckled blonde and patting him on the shoulder. “He’s right, Lixie, don’t be so worried about it. Those old owners looked like the kind of guys you’d see on Buzzfeed Unsolved anyway. Conspiracy theorists, maybe a bit off their rocker, you know the type.”

“Kind of like Hyunjin,” Seungmin inputs helpfully while Chan departs to help Jisung with the box that was two times larger than he was before he was either crushed by it or whatever was inside broke. Felix laughs at the remark.

“Hyunjin is one of a kind,” Felix responds, and Seungmin just chuckles, cracking his neck.

“That’s one way of putting it.” The brunette eyes the newly acquired house and purses his lips. “Hey, Changbin hyung, this place could use some work. Maybe you could make it your project.”

The shorter man glances at the slightly dilapidated eaves and ivy-eaten walls of the cabin-esque building and shrugs, flicking his bangs out of his eyes. “Heaven forbid. Sung’ll have my head if I mess with Mother Nature’s artwork or whatever he calls it. I mean if he wants to live with the cockroaches, who am I to interfere?”

“A roach living with roaches, how fitting,” Seungmin drawls with a cocked eyebrow, watching as Jisung actually does trip over a tree root and send himself hurtling head first into the nearby undergrowth. Fortunately, the well-taped down box in his hands remained more or less unharmed.

Felix rushes over to help Jisung out of the bush, pursing his lips as he tugs the twigs out of the squirrel-cheeked man’s hair. The pair, who remained by the cars, watching them, exchange a look and finally move to help Chan clear out the moving carrier. Felix pokes Jisung’s cheek. “Oi, don’t go around breaking your face, Sung,” he scolds. “You’re not getting out of unpacking that easily!”

“Wow, I’m so glad that my own brother loves me so much and is so worried about my health and future and clearly isn’t just trying to keep me here for convenience,” Jisung huffs, picking up his box and hugging it to his chest with a petulant look on his face.

The blonde grins. “If I was worried about your future, I would’ve tried to change your mind when you said you wanted to major in visual arts,” he jabs before running off to the carrier, laughing madly while Jisung yells creative curses at him while defending himself and his major with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

“Sometimes I wonder how you two survive living in the same household,” Chan remarks, passing a box down to Felix.

“Mum ‘n dad kept us from killing each other,” Felix replies cheerily. “Now that they aren’t here, that’s your responsibility.”

The older of the two purses his lips and moves to grab another box which he levers over to Seungmin. “I expected you to say that you could control yourselves, but maybe I have too much faith in you guys.”

“Chan, it’s me and Jisung. There’s like...negative impulse control between the two of us.”

“It’s perfect, hyung, it’s like killing two birds with one stone,” Seungmin hums a little too innocently as he sets the box down alongside the others.

Changbin snorts. “I keep telling you, Minnie, for someone who’s in law, you’re way too criminal-minded.”

“Takes one to know one,” Jisung mutters as he hops into the carrier with Chan and Seungmin just brushes it off with a shrug.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Got a clean record on me, unlike some of us,” he stares pointedly at Jisung.

“Okay, that was one time!” Jisung yelps defensively.

“Charcoal isn’t that expensive, Jisung,” Seungmin deadpans. “You nearly got locked up for arson.”

“Some wood is better than others! Besides, it’s not my fault I fell asleep...while there was a fire...in a public place…” The man crosses his arms over his chest. “You know what, Min, you are officially revoked of your best friend title.”

“Tragic," the brunette drawls, not sounding too aggrieved. "I guess I should just go back to the dorms and do my work instead of help you out with your move since I've sacrificed my precious time to help you when I have an analysis paper due midnight but this is what I get in return."

"Oh great and mighty Kim Seungmin, I take back my callous words, you are hereby reinstated as my bestest friend in the whole wide world, I thank you for your benevolence in aiding me and my dumbass brother with our move," Jisung quickly redeems, making the brunette burst into laughter while Chan just shakes his head and tosses another box to Felix.

"You're both dumbasses," Seungmin corrects as he grabs a set of easels from Chan. "But Felix is dumb and you're dumber."

"You think you're better than everyone with your GPA of 4, huh? You've got nothing else going for you," Jisung mutters.

Seungmin shakes his head. "Not true. You're the one that must think I'm better than you if you're pointing it out," he retorts easily, leaving Jisung muttering under his breath about stupid law students hanging out with Woojin too much and Chan elbowing him at the upper arm and scolding him for his colourful language.

Between the arguing that broke out every two minutes and the fact that Jisung had forgotten where he left the keys to the house until he sat down on a gnarled knot of root at the base of an oak and stabbed himself on the butt with them (the keys had been in his back pocket the entire time) it took them about six hours to successfully move all of Felix's and Jisung's belongings into the cabin.

"This is why I told you to give me the keys," Felix huffs as he sets Jisung's portfolios aside and out of harm's way before someone stepped on them and incurred the wrath of a sleep-deprived artist. "You're so messy, you'll lose them."

"Like you're much better," Jisung retorts. "Remember that time I found your missing protractor in an opened bag of chips?"

"If I come here again and step on chewed gum or ramyun scraps, I will murder you both," Seungmin groans. "You're both messy, but you're right, Lix, Jisung is worse."

Chan shakes his head. "I don't want to have to explain anything to the doctors if I have to drag any of you to the hospital." He shudders. "Blood is really hard to clean off things, so avoid doing too much physical harm to each other, yeah?"

"Wouldn't put any money on it," Changbin calls back from where he's rubbing at a crack in the wall, his fingers coming away coated in whitish dust. "Speaking of putting money on things, are you guys sure you don't want these gaps filled in? It'll get drafty." He raises an eyebrow at Jisung and Felix. "I can even be nice and throw in a labour discount."

Jisung casts a glance around the cabin, more or less in one piece, a few cracks and holes here and there but otherwise perfectly inhabitable. He grins and stretches his fingers out, spreading his arms and spinning around. "It's like a project waiting to be done," he laughs, banter and bitterness abandoned in favour of his excitement as the fact sinks in that he and Felix have their own living space. He spins around to face Changbin. "What if, instead of compound, we used coloured resin instead?" His eyes sparkle. "You can help me revamp!"

Felix watches the man with a smile and rests his chin on Chan's shoulder. "Yeah, maybe I can let off the ghost thing," he decides. "Been a while since I've seen Sungie that excited."

"First years," the blonde sighs, but he can't quite hide the amused fondness in his eyes. "Congratulations on getting your first house and all."

"Thanks, Chan." Felix pouts. "I wish Innie was here to celebrate with us."

The older man shakes his head and pats Felix's shoulder. "You're only just moving in. Maybe you could throw a housewarming whenever you get settled in and we can have the whole gang over. Jeongin's just getting his physical today, right?"

"Yeah. I still don't get why he has to go so often, honestly," Felix sighs. "There's nothing wrong with him. Even he says so."

"Hey, it's only a physical, Lix," Chan assures. "Maybe he's getting serious about trying to pack on some muscle."

Felix shrugs and opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Jisung runs down the stairs that lead to the second floor. "I call dibs on the east room!" The brunette declares.

"Which east," Seungmin deadpans, head popping out of the kitchen and a stack of plates in his hands.

"Shut up, Min, I know where east is," Jisung huffs before bouncing over to Felix. "Anyway, I called dibs so you can have the other room." He shrugs. "There's two more, but mine is the biggest. Need the space to keep my supplies, y'know."

Felix nods. "Okay."

Jisung seems surprised by his compliance and blinks owlishly in dumb silence for a few moments before tilting his head. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah…?"

"You're not gonna fight for it?"

Felix rolls his eyes and shrugs. "If you take a smaller room then you'll put your stuff in my room and I'm not stepping on a vertically planted crowbar again when I get a midnight snack. You can have your room." He pokes Jisung's forehead and grins. "Maybe it'll make you better ghost bait." He doesn't miss the way Jisung tenses slightly, but he chooses to be nice and not egg the man for it.

"Maybe if I'm feeling generous, I'll let you visit," Jisung decides obnoxiously, earning himself another poke on the forehead.

"You'll get lonely and demand cuddles," Felix dismisses. "Maybe if I'm feeling generous, I'll let you have them."

"Yes, now that we've split the territory, you should start unpacking," Changbin interjects as Seungmin carries another box labeled 'fragile' into the kitchen. Rolling up his sleeves, Changbin grabs a set of easels that were easily nearly taller than he was. "Or we're gonna be here all night and Minnie will kill us all."

"Nah, he won't," Jisung assures. "If he does, he can kiss his perfect GPA goodbye. Besides, if worst comes to worst, we can bribe him with Day6."

"Somehow, that's not very reassuring," Chan remarks, but grabs a box of anime figurines. "So where does this go?"

* * *

It didn't take all night, contrary to Changbin's belief, and for the most part there were only a handful of boxes remaining in the living room by the time Chan, Changbin and Seungmin saw themselves out of the cabin, leaving Jisung and Felix to their own devices. The two were sprawled on the suede couch that Jisung grudgingly admitted would probably be soiled beyond recognition and repair within a week or less, Felix hanging upside down with his legs kicked up against the wall, body perpendicular to Jisung who was stretched out over the length of the furniture.

For the most part the house was barren save the table and chairs in the kitchen, the couch and Persian rug in the living room and the beds upstairs. For Jisung, it was exciting; the prospect of being able to create something new and original out of the virtually empty place made his fingers itch with excitement, whilst Felix was more keen on getting their television hooked up and the internet straightened out because reception out here in the wastelands of the wilderness was just as awful as one would expect it to be. Artists and their eccentricities would be the death of him. The blonde fiddles with his phone before letting it drop to the carpet with a groan. "Sungie, which box are the books in? I can't access my assignment."

"Beats me, find it yourself, Lix," Jisung huffs, looking up from his sketchpad.

"Lazy," the blonde huffs, sitting upright and simultaneously pinning Jisung's thigh under him, making the man yelp indignantly.

"Ow! Well you aren't busy, right? So you can go find your books! Let me do my work!"

Felix shrugs and shifts to steal a glance at Jisung's sketchpad. "You don't have a portfolio to finish soon, so that's just a leisure sketch, right?" He blinks at the delicate, precise strokes that formed a very familiar image on the sheet. "Oh it's me."

"And now your dumbass moved," Jisung huffs. "I have to finish it from memory."

"Shouldn't be a problem for a prodigy," Felix huffs, rolling off of the couch and rummaging through the boxes. "Should we try cooking or should we get takeout?" He lifts his head to meet Jisung's incredulous eyes, and after a few moments of the shared silence, they both nod.

"Takeout."

It had been an unspoken conclusion that neither of them should be put in the kitchen unless it was to make instant ramyun, and even then that was pushing the limits after a sleep-deprived Jisung had misplaced turpentine for water and nearly burnt down the kitchen, giving himself severe injuries in the process that one time. Even Jisung had decided for himself that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to let him cook or be in the kitchen in general after that incident. Felix wasn't as bad, but wasn't much better either, leaving them both reliant on the miracle that was takeout to be sustained (and occasionally Woojin when he wasn't too busy to make something palatable).

After placing the order, Felix does root through the boxes to locate his books only to conclude that he must have brought the box upstairs since he had only found a few more anime figurines, more of Jisung's art supplies, a few odds and ends (and that damned crowbar), and a box full of nothing but snacks. At least he has honey butter chips to accompany him on his journey upstairs.

Upon arriving upstairs, he flicks on the lightswitch because he would never admit that being in this place with the lights off unnerved him just the slightest bit; he wasn't particularly scared of the dark or anything, but ignoring his disorientation with this entire place for virtually the entire day only made the creeping sensation of unease grip at him with just a little more fervour than it should have. He frowns and shoves a few more chips into his mouth, accidentally spilling a few crumbs onto his shirt. He brushes them off and heads into his room, just beside Jisung's and opposite from another unused bedroom.

The floorboards creak under his footsteps and he flinches, stopping short and glancing behind himself at the illuminated hallway. He purses his lips at himself and just strides purposefully into his bedroom. He was being paranoid. Jisung would probably make fun of him for it, not that the brunette was much better. Felix flips the switch and moves to his boxes, fishing through them until he found his books. He picks one at random and wastes no time in rushing back downstairs to Jisung's company and a pointed diminishing in that eerie sensation he could quite ignore.

His disconcertion must've been written on his face since the first thing that Jisung asks him when he returns is, "Everything all right, Lix?"

Felix laughs without substance and flops down on the couch. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" He asks.

Jisung's eyebrow rides up on his face as he watches the freckled blonde, but he shrugs it off. "You look like you're about to get jumped," he remarks. The corner of his lips quirk up. "Jeez, Lixie, if it's about all that haunted moonshine, we'll be fine. There's no one here. If there was, wouldn't they have...I dunno, haunted us or something by now?"

"It's not that! It's just drafty. Maybe you should take Changbin hyung up on those repairs." Felix tosses the bag of chips to Jisung, who catches it reflexively with a shrug.

"Well don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Lix. We gotta make do until we have time to actually fix up this place." He grins through a mouthful of chips. "Besides, isn't it exciting? Our own place!"

Felix laughs slightly; Jisung's enthusiasm was infectious. He sits down cross-legged on the well-worn rug, his fingers clasped around his ankles. "Yeah, it's exciting," he agrees, his doe eyes sparkling slightly. The pair exchange a look and share a grin, and Felix dissolves into laughter. "We can just beat the spirit out of any ghosts that try and haunt us."

Jisung's brow creases and he deliberately lowers his pencil onto his sketchpad before folding his hands together carefully. "...did you just make a pun?"

"No, I made a ghoke."

"A what?"

"A ghost joke," Felix recites with absolute seriousness. He yelps when the sketchbook is hurled at his head, ducking and letting it skid across the floor.

"I'm disowning you."

"You're not better than me!" The blonde barks only for the brunette to roll of the couch and onto his lap with a huff.

"Maybe not, but I'm still older than you."

Felix rolls his eyes. "Less. Than. A. Day."

"Still older," Jisung chirps, rolling across the floor to retrieve his sketchbook.

The two return to their own business in mere seconds, somehow ending up tangled with each other once again with Jisung's head resting in Felix's lap while the blonde's leg somehow found its way between Jisung's. The older of the pair occupied himself with his drawings while the younger absently read the same page of his book perhaps a dozen times, never really registering the words but finding an excuse to kill time nonetheless.

When their takeout is delivered, they don't bother moving to the table, instead opting to enjoy their noodles and chicken on the carpet, both too hungry to exchange many words. Although they had ordered enough food for at least four people, between the pair of them it was easily polished off (namely by Felix who would never leave leftovers to be had. Jisung was more likely to eat like a bird of the two of them, but that wasn't saying much). In the end, Felix is the one that tosses the takeout containers and plastic utensils into the trash bin because Jisung would probably forget or try to turn it into some kind of freak art project. The difference between Jisung and other artists his age, was that Jisung was almost obscenely risky in his own prodigious way. Sometimes the man would struggle to be understood by even his own professors, but any critique received only fueled his desire to be better. It was difficult to keep him down for long.

"I'm heading up," Jisung announces as Felix strides back into the living room. "Gotta catch those z's." He bites back a yawn and stretches. "Got a seminar at 8, so I'll take the car. What's your schedule?"

Felix frowns. "Just dance practice with Hyunjin and the rest of the crew, I think. My first class is at 10, but Jin and Yeji are probably gonna be at the studio early so might as well tag along." He shrugs. "Anyway, I'll head to the shower first." He grins. "Don't miss me too much."

"As if. I have to see your mug every day," Jisung retorts. "I'll take the seconds of reprieve with gratefulness."

Felix snorts at that and heads upstairs to grab his pyjamas and run into the bathroom, leaving the older brunette to his own devices for the time being. Jisung watches the man's retreating back before following him upstairs, turning off the lights on the first floor and leaving the hallway of the second illuminated. He retreats into his room which was already messily littered with boxes, figurines, easels, canvases (both blank and used), and numerous odds and ends and knickknacks. He twirls to his mattress, which currently laid on the floor, and falls onto it, bouncing up slightly.

The bay window must have needed a fix since a cooling draft slipped into the room although Jisung was sure that it was tightly shut, but he solves the issue by grabbing his favorite fleece blanket patterned with chipmunks (a birthday gift from Hyunjin, who insisted he looked like a chipmunk) and wrapping himself into a very comfortable burrito on the mattress, his head peeking out at the top. He sighs contentedly and glances out the window to view the stars that glittered clearly above the trees.

That was another pro of living out here: he could actually see the stars that would otherwise be obscured by the city lights. Although Jisung thrived in the bustling environment that the urban life brought, he could always relax and appreciate the little things like the stars and the singing of crickets in the humid summer air.

He's so caught up in his romanticizing that he doesn't notice a pyjama-clad Felix sneaking up behind him until the freckled blonde jumps onto him with a guttural yell, eliciting a shriek from his throat as he flinches away, eyes widening into saucers as he whips around defensively. "Yah!" He smacks Felix's upper arm when he finally gathers himself, his face red with embarrassment as the blonde just dissolves into laughter, his eyes crinkling and his arms clasping his sides as he tumbles onto the mattress.

"Y-your face!" Felix gasps, pointing a small finger at Jisung and laughing madly. "You looked like you just had an out of body experience or something!" He giggles and wiggles his eyebrows at Jisung. "You see a ghost?" he teases, earning himself another smack and a pout from the brunette.

"Shut up, Lix," Jisung huffs before his offended expression gives way into a grin because it was hard to stay angry when Felix's laughter was contagious, and if anything he was relieved that the blonde was beginning to relax. It wasn't like Felix to be so paranoid, even though the both of them were easily startled. He reaches up to mess with Felix's hair. "You stay here," he tells him. "I'll go wash up."

"So you do want cuddles?" Felix asks.

Jisung stands up and throws his blanket over Felix's head. "No, I want to protect my little bro from the ghosts," he deadpans. "Of course I want cuddles and you want them too, so don't even bother complaining." And with that, he traipses off down the hall to the bathroom.

He returns mere minutes later only to have Felix complain that he had barely washed up and was still dirty, to which he responded by smothering the blonde with himself. Eventually the complaints faded as the pair ended up entangled once again on the single mattress in relative silence (primarily because Felix had clamped his hand firmly over Jisung's mouth when the brunette declared that he would serenade the both of them to sleep). The two had always been close and so the proximity meant little to either of them, and was perhaps more comfortable.

Felix is the first to drift off, his hand falling from Jisung's lips and the brunette chuckles softly at that, half-asleep himself. Teetering precariously at the brink of slumber for himself, he was rather peeved when a loud shrieking pierces through the otherwise still air. He groans and sits up slowly, rubbing at his eyes and moving to the window to see what on earth was going on. His brow furrows when he sees nothing. Once again, he hears a scream that sounded far too close for comfort and his eyes shoot wide open, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he realizes that the source of the sound had to be somewhere in this house.

His blood freezes in his veins and he turns stiffly to stare at the bedroom door, which was currently shut. Heart thudding against his chest, he slowly moves over to it, accidentally tripping over Felix's foot and sending himself sprawling on the floor, waking up the blonde in the process. Felix lifts his head and blinks sleepily at him. "Sungie..? What's…"

Once again, the unearthly screech breaks through the air and Felix flies upright, gripping the blanket with wide, terrified eyes. Jisung scrambles to his feet and backs away from the closed door, flipping the lightswitch and then moving over to Felix. He grips the blonde's shoulder, swallowing back a glob of saliva and nearly choking on it, his throat was so dry. Felix looked petrified, frozen stiff and eyes round and blank. Jisung naturally wraps his arms around the blonde. "...Lixie, I don't know what it is—" Another shrill, desperate cry breaks through the air and Jisung flinches.

"It's...it's the ghost, isn't it Sungie?" Felix whispers, his voice trembling. The sound perpetrated a wave of sudden and perhaps irrational indignance to wash over Jisung. He pulls himself to his feet and shakes his head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lixie, ghosts aren't real," Jisung insists, trying to disguise the tremor in his voice. He swallows and takes a step towards the door. He's stopped by fingers around his wrist and he glances back to see Felix's frightened doe eyes.

"You can't go out there! What if something happens to you—"

"Ghosts don't exist! It's probably something…maybe a rusted hinge or a broken tape," Jisung insists. "It's all fine, Lix." He tugs his wrist away from the blonde's grip and whips the door open in a single, gutsy movement. He's met with the darkness of the hallway, and for a minute or two, silence falls over them again. Jisung almost believes that his ears had been deceiving him until he hears the scream that raises the hairs on his arms to stand on end and goosebumps to litter his skin. It was much louder without the obstruction of the door, but this time Jisung could determine the direction from which it seemed to come.

He glances back at Felix again before flipping the light switch for the hallway and stepping out. "I'm going in," he declares, his voice tense. He grabs a length of PVC pipe from the floor and inches towards the unused bedroom, wincing with every cacophonous shriek that tore past his eardrums. It sounded like an animal being slaughtered, but oddly human and that should have made it worse, but at the moment Jisung was rather peeved by the fact that he wasn't getting his precious sleep and that he wasn't getting to live in the house that he and Felix had purchased in peace. Of course, that meant rash and probably stupid decisions, but he just wanted to silence the screeching and go to sleep.

Armed with the pipe, he suddenly throws open the door and flips the switch. Brandishing it, he prepares to attack, only to stop short and blink owlishly at the sight that met his eyes. His lips part, but no sound leaves them as he finds himself staring dumbfounded at the man on the bed, writhing and screaming hoarsely, sweat beading at his forehead and delicate features contorted in what almost seemed to be pain. His face was conventionally attractive and vaguely reminded Jisung of a cat. Jisung's mind blanks out as he stares for a few moments before he recalls what he had initially come here for and he strides in with a fresh bout of confidence.

He grabs the man's collar and shakes him. "Yah! Wake up, damn it!" He yells, not intending on being either kind or gentle because what the hell what this man doing in his house?! He glares down at the man as long lashes flutter and eventually, disoriented eyes with dilated pupils meet his own. Jisung stares down at him. "I don't know who the hell you are, or what you're doing here, but this isn't your house and you're not supposed to be here, so get out, please and thank you." He pulls the man off of the bed and practically drags him down the hallway, ignoring his sputtered words.

"Sung, what are you doing?! Who is that?" He hears Felix calling him, but he's too tired and irritated to care at the moment so he just tugs the man down the stairs and pushes him out of the door, slamming it shut in his face and turning his back to it. His arms cross over his chest and he scowls when Felix rushes downstairs to stare at him in apprehensive confusion. "Sung, what—"

"Don't know, don't care. Someone who shouldn't be in our house."

Felix rubs at his eyes, trying to comprehend what on earth had just happened. He moves closer to the wall and peers out of the window only to see the feline-eyed man staring back at him with wide, shocked eyes. His lips part and he reaches up to rake his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. "Jisung, you can't just throw a man out into the forest and leave him to fend for himself!"

"Well, you can't just trespass on private property," Jisung retorts, still sounding rather aggravated.

Felix shakes his head. "Sung, you're just scared," he sighs. "It's okay, he doesn't look dangerous." The blonde opens the door and steps outside, barefoot and all, offering his hand to the brunette, still sprawled on the grass and looking rather disoriented. He offers the man an apologetic smile. "Sorry about my brother. He gets defensive easily." Felix crouches down. "I promise he's a good person."

After a few moments of silence and dubious glances, his hand is accepted by the brunette, who still seemed wary of both him and Jisung, but he stands up and helps the man to his feet, keeping his kind smile on his face. "I'm Felix and that's Jisung. Who are you?"

"... Minho."

Felix just nods and urges him back inside before shutting the door. "Sorry about that, Minho. We just woke up to your screaming. Is everything all right?"

The brunette immediately releases his hand and brushes down his clothing, tucking his striped button down into his pants from where it had come untucked and averting his eyes from them. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's all right," Felix assures. "We just moved here today. We didn't know that you were here." He glances over at Jisung, who's still scowling and he frowns. "You didn't break in, did you?"

"You don't just ask potential axe murderers if they just broke into our house Lix," Jisung mutters scathingly.

"Well, you don't just literally throw people out of houses, Jisung," the man, Minho, bites back, equally as scathing. The pair glare at each other for a few moments and Felix just sighs, stepping between them.

"Look, we have to be up early, let's just go sleep, Sung." He glances over at Minho. "You can stay the night as long as there's no funny business," he decides. "We can talk about this tomorrow." He grabs Jisung's wrist and drags him up the stairs, ignoring his barely comprehensive complaints. Felix flashes Minho an amicable smile. "Have a good sleep, Minho," he calls before pushing Jisung into the bedroom and locking the door behind them just in case.

Jisung scowls and wraps his blanket around himself. He plants himself down on the mattress and stares up at Felix. "I don't like that Minho guy."

"Well we're going to let him stay," Felix insists. "We are not going to let him get eaten by wolves—"

"There aren't any wolves in this area, Lix."

"Bears then!"

"No bears either."

Felix crosses his arms over his chest. "Well, we're going to be decent, hospitable people and not throw people out into the forest to fend for themselves in the cold and dark and get sick.”

"Hospitality is overrated," Jisung mutters and Felix rolls his eyes.

"Your edgy teen phase is showing, Sung. Just put your pride away for a night? He doesn't seem like a bad guy." Felix sighs. "He must have been having a nightmare."

"Well, that doesn't explain what he's doing here."

"Well, why don't you go sleep? We can ask him questions tomorrow." Felix pushes Jisung down onto the mattress and sits down beside him. "Hey, if he does turn out to be an axe murderer and we both die, you can tell me that you told me so."

Jisung cracks a tiny smile at that and grabs Felix's arm, tugging him down as well. "Shut up and go sleep, Lixie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on this may not be very regular, so please bear with me  
> Thank you for taking the time to read this and I'll see you next chapter <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello, thank you to everyone who decided to check this out despite it's very obvious strangeness ^^  
> For everyone who's still reading this, thank you very much, your support means a lot <3

When Jisung wakes up, it’s to the scent of heaven, the equivalent of heaven being freshly cooked food. And he knew full well that no one in this household knew how to cook, which meant that he was either dreaming, tripping or actually experiencing some blessed reality which meant that they had real food really cooking somewhere in the house.

After the initial reverie, Jisung actually does wake up to realize that Felix is still snoring into the blanket beside him, meaning that Felix couldn’t possibly be in the kitchen unless he was having an out of body experience and he himself was actually in the kitchen. But he quickly realizes that isn’t possible when he shoots to his feet, taking enough care to not awaken the blonde. 

He rushes out of the bedroom and storms down the stairs, grabbing his crowbar from a box and striding into the kitchen. 

“Oh, hey. I can’t really cook beyond the basics, but I tried making breakfast.” Minho, striped sleeves rolled up and all, glances back at him and offers him a lax smile that bordered cynical but not enough to be unkind. “To apologize about last night.” The man’s eyes drift down to the peeling crowbar in Jisung’s hands. For someone who was in a position to be attacked violently by a blunt object, he seemed a little too calm. 

But of course, as much of an edgy teen as Jisung was, he wasn’t a horrible person, and he wasn’t going to assault a man that had just made him breakfast, especially since he hadn’t had home-cooked food in a good while, and wasn’t about to risk being in the kitchen for himself. Grudgingly, he lowers the crowbar and breathes out a sigh. “...thanks, I guess.” Minho chuckles and sets a bowl of rice on the table topped with kimchi, and whatever animosity Jisung had felt towards Minho suddenly melts away as he sits down at the table and grabs a spoon. “Wow, I think I love you.” 

“You move fast,” Minho responds dryly. “But thanks, I love me too.” Jisung snorts and digs in, just happy to have a decent breakfast for once. Minho rolls his sleeves back down and leans against the counter, cocking his head at Jisung. “Where’s your brother?”

“Lix? Oh, he’s still sleeping. I kinda don’t want to wake him up because he doesn’t even have classes this early. And he’s probably tired about last night too. What were you even doing in the guest room? What are you even doing here? You do know this is our house, right?”

Minho frowns. “Well, I was here first.” 

“Doesn’t mean a thing to me,” Jisung retorts, staring up at him through cheeks stuffed with food, and Minho just stares at him, unable to be intimidated because if a young man was trying to look intimidating while having cheeks as full as a chipmunk's, it’s decidedly difficult to feel intimidated. “We have the papers, we can legally have you evicted.” 

Minho’s eyes darken at his words and he looks away momentarily before sighing. “Look. If you let me stay, I won’t bother you. This is the only place I have, and I guess I was just lucky that the old owners never spent a lot of time here.” He shrugs noncommittally. “I’ll cook and stuff if you want. Can’t do much more than the basics though.”

Jisung meets Minho's catlike eyes and belatedly notices how long his lashes are. They remind him of something, but for the life of him, he can't remember what. After a few moments of silence between them, he shrugs. "Lix'll probably have my head if I kick you out anyway," he decides. "You can stay, but if you get up to any funny business, I'm kicking you out for good."

In turn for his troubles, he receives a smile, one that lights up Minho's face, and even Jisung can't deny the fact that he's terribly handsome, maybe even more so than Hyunjin, their resident pretty boy, or even Felix, who had his own fairylike charms (and a voice that didn't match). The man laughs and shrugs. "I don't think you should be the one telling me that since my first impression of you is someone that likes to go around beating people up with pipes and crowbars, but I'll take what I can get." He sounds amused and Jisung rolls his eyes.

"Well, not like my impression of you was better but maybe if you make more food you can make up for it."

"Slavedriver."

Jisung grins and shrugs while Minho shuts off the stove. The man glances back at him again. "Now hurry up and finish your food and get out of here. Wake up your brother too. He'll have to walk to the city and catch a bus if you don't go together."

"All right, all right." Jisung stands up, carrying his empty bowl to the sink with a huff. "You're so bossy," he complains.

"And you have to manage your time properly, Jisung. Now go, shoo, and take your crowbar with you." Minho waves him off with a tea towel and he retreats with another huff and a bark of laughter. 

Hurrying upstairs, he quickly jumps in the shower and emerges with his hair still soaking wet. He only towels it half-dry before dressing into his clothes for the day. He tasks himself with waking up Felix, rushing into his bedroom and shaking the blonde awake. "Lixie, hey, Lixie, wake up! We're leaving in a bit," he calls, not bothering to be quiet since that would defeat the point anyway. He leaves Felix waking up and looking rather confused, instead moving to throw his textbooks into a backpack and hefting it over his shoulder. 

"Huh…? What era is it?"

"Sun's out guns out, Lix," Jisung calls, ignoring the somnolent question. "Minho made food."

Immediately the blonde sits up, his eyes sparkling and blanket wrapped around him, looking unforgivably cute with his eager expression mixed with slightly sleepy eyes and messy hair. Jisung's eyes soften slightly at the sight and he grins. "I'll head down. Whenever you're ready," he announces before leaving so that Felix could ready himself for the day. 

When he steps onto the hardwood floor, it creaks beneath his weight and Minho looks up from where he's seated on the couch, reading one of the books that he had presumably taken from an unpacked box. "I wouldn't have taken you for the Descartes kind of guy."

Jisung snorts. "Me? Nah, I think he was kind of dumb, honestly. Philosophy is Lixie's kind of thing, but only because he likes to make obscure jokes about it that literally no one and their grandmother will understand. I like comic books better."

"That says more about you than it does about your brother," Minho remarks dryly, glancing down at the book in his hands and slapping it shut. "I was going to ask if he's awake, but I could hear you yelling from the kitchen. If he's still asleep, I'd just think he's deaf. Or dead."

"I'm right here, you know." The pair glance back at the staircase to find the freckled blonde rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, still stumbling slightly with drowsiness. 

Jisung smiles and gestures to the kitchen. "Food's in there, Lixie."

Felix nods absently, fixing his beret and padding into the kitchen. He pauses and glances back at them. "Thanks for the meal, Minho," he calls before popping out of sight.

"He's cute," the brunette remarks from behind Jisung. "Pretty too." Jisung steals a glance back at Minho to find him smiling a little differently at the space that Felix had occupied seconds before. He looked almost fond, and Jisung feels a coil of something protective and rather ugly in his gut. He purses his lips into a line to hide his scowl.

"He's also my brother and he's taken so keep your hands off," he snaps. 

Minho meets his eyes and grins cheekily, his gaze turning mischievous, and Jisung finds that he prefers the softer expression on the man's face, but of course he doesn't say that aloud since he quite obviously doesn't care. Minho shrugs, casting his gaze away coyly. "Pity," he hums airily. "I like him. He's nicer than you."

"You know I can kick you out any time I want, right?"

"But you won't," Minho replies coolly, waving him off with a hand and opening the book once again. 

"Well, aren't you confident about that," Jisung drawls, annoyance written clearly on his features because how much more infuriating could this freeloader get?!

The man nods, barely sparing Jisung a glance. "I can make you food, you won't kick me out."

"There's more to life than food, you know," Jisung retorts. When Minho's eyes widen comically and the man's head whips around to face him, his brow creases. "Don't look so surprised, damn it! I can be mature if I want!"

"Wow, who'd have thought."

"Don't sass me!"

To say the least, Jisung leaves the house and storms towards the car, huffing and puffing like a steam engine, sufficiently perturbed by Minho and his stupid, annoying (pretty) face followed by Felix, who apologizes to the man on his behalf and rushes after him, careening into the front passenger's seat and dropping his backpack on his foot. The blonde yelps, more out of surprise than pain, and Jisung's irritation dissipates as he laughs at the clumsy movement.

"Don't laugh at my misery," Felix groans, pulling up his foot and tugging his shoe off to massage it.

"I'm not, I'm laughing at your My Little Pony socks."

"Shut up! Jeongin got them for me and they're comfortable!" 

Jisung screeches and nearly loses control of the wheel as Felix whacks the back of his head with his shoe. He slams the brakes and glares at Felix. "Hey! I'm driving!"

"Well that's what you get for making fun of my socks."

"Okay, okay, jeez. I'm sorry!" Jisung huffs, resuming the drive again. "It was just a joke! Kids these days…take everything too seriously…" he mutters under his breath.

"Lee Jisung, if you pull the age card again, I will yeet your brains out next time," Felix warns, brandishing his shoe warningly. 

"No, you won't, you love me."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"That cut real deep, Lixie."

"Good. That'll teach you to not make fun of my socks."

Jisung glances over at him incredulously. "You're still on about that?" I'm response he receives a nod, and he rolls his eyes but doesn't carry that conversation on further. 

It's early enough for the sun to hang low in the east, breaking through the branches of the trees as they roll past, bathing them in undulating streams of golden light, and the sound of birdsong permeates the air, accompanied by the whispering of the mellow summer breeze that drifts through the foliage. It's soothing, and Jisung is almost tempted to stop in the middle of it all and pull out his sketchbook, but he really doesn't want to risk missing the morning seminar, as boring as it was going to be, because his reputation for being a golden child in his field preceded him just a little too much. Sure, he was no avid studier like Seungmin or Chan, but natural talent ran through his veins like blood and he liked to bring out the best of it as much as he could. Maybe he wasn't too great at studying, but he had keen mental aptitudes and he was well aware of it.

He can hear Felix humming a low tune beside him and he smiles as the soothing rumble of the younger man's voice laces with the sounds around them, creating an innocent kind of music, tuneless and lacking in structure, but riding a rhythm that would have been perfect, was it not for the growling of the engine. Jisung turns to stare out the window for a few moments before redirecting his gaze to the road. 

"Hey, Lix?"

The blonde stops humming and turns his attention to him, picking at his dry lips with a fingernail. "Yeah?"

"Do you really think it's a good idea to let Minho stay?" Jisung keeps his eyes on the road as they slip into a more urban area, but his mind wanders to cattish eyes, long lashes and refined lips. He frowns at the odd kind of clouded familiarity that percolates through the far reaches of his mind. His frown then turns into a pouty scowl. Minho was dumb. And annoying. And suspicious. And kind of pretty, but that was irrelevant. 

Felix stops picking at his lip and instead pulls a stick of lip balm out of his pocket to moisten the dryness. He chews at the corner of his bottom lip as he thinks, and pockets the lip balm. "He looks put together enough, and he could've taken our things and run off while we were sleeping, but he didn't. I think we should give him a chance. Besides, if we kick him out, where will he go? We can't just make him walk all the way to the city and find someplace to stay."

Jisung snorts. "I don't know about that. He's got a good set of thighs, he should be fine."

"Why were you looking at his thighs, Sung?" Felix asks, turning to stare at him with a cocked eyebrow and a hint of a grin starting at the corner of his lips. Jisung's eyes widen comically and he sputters, shaking his head vehemently.

"I wasn't! You just notice things when you have to be in the same room as someone else! You're thinking too much, Lix, stop it." 

"And you're getting way too defensive," Felix croons, reaching over to poke Jisung's cheek. "I can't believe it, Lee Jisung, the most confident gay I know, is panicking over Minho," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Jisung groans and shakes his head. "What the hell, Lix, that's weird!" He gripes. "He's a creep, that's why!'

"Suuuure." Felix giggles. "Keep telling yourself that."

Jisung rolls his eyes and screeches to a stop at the university premises. "Oh, look, we're here," he declares, a little too hurriedly as he slips into an impossibly tight parking space between two other cars with a screech of the axles and the quieting of the engine as he veritably tears the keys out of the ignition. "Well, I gotta head off to my seminar, I'll catch you later, Lixie, say hi to Hyunjin and co. for me!" He's already yelling the last half of the sentence as he darts through the campus to his building, silently cursing himself for parking at the Faculty of Medicine instead of the Faculty of Arts. 

  


* * *

"So…" Chan drifts off, looking from one face to the other, while the rest of their company seems oddly morose, staring sullenly down at the table as though a death sentence hung over their heads. 

" _Hmmmm_ ," Jisung hums, obnoxiously loud, as he catches sight of Changbin opening his mouth to speak, two liprings on the left side of his mouth practically _mocking_ Jisung. He won't allow it. " _Hmmmmmmmmm_."

"Shut up, Sung, you sound like Felix's mosquito on acid," Seungmin interjects, interrupting the insufferable noise and earning himself a glare from the brunette. 

"Hey, what if I'm just trying to meditate, huh? Let a man meditate in peace, Seung _mean_ ," he huffs.

"Real mature, Jisung," the man drawls, tapping the butt of his highlighter against a stack of readings on the cafeteria table and pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But seriously. Are you actually going to let a stranger that was randomly in your house at godforsaken hours of the night for heaven knows what reason stay and live with you guys? Really? That's just a disaster waiting to happen, if it wasn't _blatantly obvious_ enough for you."

"I thought letting them live alone was a disaster waiting to happen in itself," Changbin interjects unhelpfully, and Jisung chucks a peanut at him. 

"Put a lid on it, hyung, Felix insisted on letting him stay," he huffs. 

"Who? You mean the creepy guy that started screaming in the middle of the night? Do you? You do, don't you?" 

Jisung screeches when he feels arms suddenly drape over his shoulders from behind and he flinches away from the body behind him. The students seated at the surrounding cafeteria tables spare their group an idle glance and Jisung feels his face warm. He tilts his head back to glare at Hyunjin's upside down, grinning face in all its sweaty glory. "Yah! Warn a man before you jump him!" He yelps. Fingers squish his cheeks and he huffs, flopping back in his chair and loosely gripping Hyunjin's wrists. "How do you even know about that?"

"Lix of course," Hyunjin replies candidly. "He even told me how you tried attacking him with a pipe."

"Assault," Seungmin breaks in, glancing up from his notebook. 

"Yes, we're all aware," Changbin drawls lazily, while Chan breathes out a longsuffering sigh. 

"I didn't actually attack him," Jisung defends. "What if he's an axe murderer?"

"Then he'd have probably killed you both by now, and not fallen asleep in the bedroom," Seungmin drawls nonchalantly, feeding Hyunjin a piece of bread when the man sits down beside him and drapes himself over him. "What did you say his name was?"

"Minho," Hyunjin answers before Jisung has the chance. 

"How about his surname?" 

Jisung shrugs. "He didn't say. It doesn't matter anyway."

Seungmin just nods in response, tugging his glasses off his face and shrugging noncommittally, prompting a whine from Hyunjin, who was forced to shift under the movement. The brunette packs his glasses away and stands, making Hyunjin fall over onto his chair with an animated squeak and Jisung chuckles. Seungmin hefts his backpack over his shoulder. "Maybe we'll stop by again," he decides, glancing over at Chan. "I want to meet this Minho."

"Heaven forbid, that's like the trigger to open the gates of hell," Jisung deadpans. 

"All the more reason to meet him," Seungmin decides before facing Chan with a saccharine smile on his face. "We can go, right, hyung?" He asks innocently. 

"Oh! Then we can go too, right?" Hyunjin interjects as he jerks upright, his eyes sparkling. "Me and Changbin hyung!" He faces Chan. "We can work on our project together, hyung, the three of us! Please? Pleeease? I haven't seen the house yet! Please?"

The blonde just smiles appealingly and nods. "We can go as long as Jisung and Felix are fine with it. They still have to get settled in, you know."

And at that, four pairs of eyes perforate Jisung. He holds up his hands to hide himself from direct eye contact. "I feel like I'm going to be the victim of some weird witchcraft if I say no—I'm looking at you three weirdos because I know that Chan hyung would just knock me out like a normal person—so fine." He huffs. "But if you touch my stuff, I'm kicking you out the window."

"Says the one who steals my clothes on a regular basis," Seungmin drawls. "I've been waiting for my blue pullover back for three years now."

"What blue pullover?" Jisung muses with an infuriating innocence in his tone. "I have a light cornflower pullover at home, but I guess that's not what you're looking for." He shrugs with a devil-may-care smirk on his face. 

The brunette's stares at him incredulously before rolling his eyes. "Try me again and I'll make you eat that crowbar that Felix stepped on that one time."

"Seungmin," Chan admonishes.

"Sorry, hyung," the brunette sighs. "I know, it's a waste of metal."

"That's not what I implied, but if it makes you stop then I guess it works," Chan decides.

Jisung gawps at the pair before flipping Seungmin the bird. "You know what, go to your class and look at your maggots or whatever you do, the air is cleaner without the trash that comes out of your mouth," he huffs, pouting. 

"I really find it hard to believe that you two have been best friends since conception or something sometimes," Changbin remarks dryly, and both Jisung and Seungmin shudder and cast him matching repulsed stares. He shrugs and rests his chin against Hyunjin's shoulder. "I rest my case."

"Well maybe you just don't understand the art of best friends," Jisung decides, glancing over at Seungmin who only shrugs in response. 

"No, I just don't understand you two, I swear you try to kill each other half the time," the man points out, cocking a cross-slit eyebrow. 

"Jisungie tries to kill everyone at one point or another," Hyunjin pipes up with a shrug. "I think it's just his way of showing affection."

"Well, excuse you." Jisung crosses his arms over his chest and throws a leg onto the table only to have Chan stare at it in half-hidden disgust and push it off. "I came here to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now."

"Minho at you last night," Changbin chirps, a grin spreading over his features. Jisung flips him off and stands up, parading away, presumably in search of better friends. 

Jisung honestly dreaded the prospect of his friends meeting Minho since in general he didn't trust the man. He didn't know if he could trust him around his friends and he certainly didn't want to be the reason for them to end up hurt in any way if the man actually was some kind of offender and was secretly targeting people. Of course, if he would just drop his paranoia he would realize that probably wasn't likely, but since he doesn't, the thought escapes him entirely.

"Sung, watch the road!"

Jisung snaps back to the present and stares at Seungmin only to find the brunette facepalming. " _The road_ , Jisung, before you kill us both." Jisung slams on the breaks just before he tumbles down a small ravine just a little off the dirt road and yes, yes that would have killed them both. Seungmin glances out the window and down over the precipice before sighing. "I should've just waited for Chan hyung...remind me to never get into a car with you again."

"Well, excuse you! You try and see how easy it is!"

Seungmin turns to face him with sheer, undisguised disappointment in his eyes. "Seriously, what's up with you? You've been zoning out all day. I threw my eraser at you during today's history lecture and you didn't even blink."

"How did you even throw it at me if you were sitting at the front?" Jisung sputters, his eyes wide with indignation.

"I turned around and I threw it at you. It's not rocket science, idiot."

"You're mean. I'm going to ditch you here."

"Just drive."

Jisung backs away from the brink of the ravine and drives back onto the dirt path. "I wish I took Lix with me," he huffs. "At least he's tastefully offensive towards me."

"And I'm not?"

"You're just offensive in general. I don't know how Chan hyung deals with you."

"I don't know how anyone deals with you either, but here we all are," Seungmin points out, and Jisung can't really refute that so he just remains sullenly silent until they reach the house. 

Parking the car, he grabs his backpack and textbooks and hobbles over to the door before belatedly realizing that he has no free hands. He glances over at Seungmin who seems to understand his predicament and reaches into his pocket for the keys (surprisingly enough without any scathing comment) and unlocks the door. The brunette's eyes widen as a man with a peeling crowbar in his grip and a too-pleasant smile on his refined features stands waiting behind said door. 

"Welcome home, Jisung— oh, you're not Jisung." 

"Damn it, Minho, I thought I told you not to get up to any funny business!" Jisung drops his textbooks gracelessly on the floor as he pushes past Seungmin to enter the house, grabbing the crowbar from the man's hands and tossing it into an empty box. When Minho doesn't respond, Jisung glances back only to find him peering curiously at Seungmin.

"You're cute, are you Jisung's boyfriend?" 

"What, ew! And stop flirting with him!" Jisung yelps in disgust that's mirrored on Seungmin's face as the brunette raises a hand slowly and pushes Minho's face away from himself. 

"I'm his best friend. Jisung is single because no one has the energy to deal with his irksome face," Seungmin informs simply, and Jisung chokes on his spit. The brunette remains relatively unfazed as he strides into the house, kicking off his shoes and shutting the door. "You must be Minho."

"Aw, did Jisungie tell you about me?" Minho draws out sarcastically. "I'm honoured."

"Don't be," Seungmin replies, provoking a bark of laughter from the man. 

"I regret not ditching you earlier," Jisung decides, throwing his backpack onto the couch and flopping onto it soon after. He eyes Minho dubiously. "My friends are coming to visit so kindly don't scare them off at the door."

"I don't think you have much right to tell me that after what you did, but if you say so," Minho chirps back breezily, moving to open a window. "At least I was trying to clean up the place a bit while you and your brother were gone and I wasn't actively trying to brain you with a blunt object."

"Sure, sure," Jisung sighs, finally noticing that the house actually did seem tidier, and although their belongings remained more or less unhandled, everything was moved neatly aside so that there was less of a chance that one would trip over them in the pitch darkness of the middle of the night while traversing to the kitchen for a midnight snack. The dust that faintly blanketed the mantel of the fireplace and the empty shelves pressed against the walls was gone and maybe Minho actually had cleaned up the place...which was nice, considering Jisung and Felix both knew that they would collectively ruin the area beyond recognition before either of them would even consider lifting a finger to clean it. 

"Wow, so that's why it looks clean!" Seungmin exclaims, sitting himself down on the carpet and eyeing his surroundings in amazement. 

"Don't look so surprised!" Jisung grumbles. 

"I've had to tolerate your messiness for years, I'm well within my rights to be surprised," Seungmin replies, and Jisung's hand strays dangerously close to the box that he had lobbed the crowbar into. Seungmin doesn't even turn around to see. "Attempted assault, don't try me." With a whine, Jisung's hand falls onto the armrest.

"There are snacks in the kitchen," Minho suddenly calls. "Go eat and go do your work." His his eyes fall on Jisung in particular, and the brunette frowns. 

"Who died and made you the boss of me?"

"He's literally just trying to be nice, Jisung," Seungmin groans. "Be a decent person and accept it. Seriously, what's with you?"

Minho tilts his head curiously, a glint in his brown eyes. "I just assumed he's always like that."

"Well, he used to be," Seungmin replies. "Overly cautious, had a bone to pick with everyone, and needlessly defensive. He's mellowed out since he was little, but he's really relapsing over you." The brunette pulls his notebook out of his backpack and twirls a pencil gracefully between his fingers before catching it and pointing it at Minho. "Which you can't really blame him for, considering the circumstances. What kind of criminal are you?"

With a rather low chuckle, eyes crinkling into a kind of smile that unsettled Jisung somewhat, Minho shakes his head tentatively, something akin to hesitation in his eyes. Jisung deliberately chooses to ignore it, because he should be the one wary of Minho, not the other way around! Ignoring the fact that he had tried to clobber Minho numerous times with blunt objects by this point, of course. Minho shrugs easily and turns away from them. "I can't be bothered explaining myself. I'll just worry about not getting kicked out of this house."

Just as the words leave his mouth, a series of rapid knocks resound at the door, and Jisung hops to his feet to answer it. He's met with way too many people, and belatedly recalls that he had permitted them to come over, so he steps aside as Chan leads the way in, followed by Changbin and Hyunjin, and by default, Woojin too. Felix still wasn't back, so Jisung would assume that he was with Jeongin and leave him in peace for the time being. 

"Hey, Sung," Changbin greets, bumping shoulders with him before turning to face Seungmin and Minho curiously. "Is this the stranger?"

"Normally I would tell you I have a name," Minho retorts without missing a beat and Changbin only grins slightly at that. 

"Minho, eh? You've been the talk of the town today."

"And by talk of the town, he means just us," Chan interjects dryly, taking the initiative to stride over to the man and offer him his hand, bowing slightly. "I'm Chan, nice to finally meet you."

Minho offers him a crinkle-eyed smile and shakes his hand. Minho. It's good to see that Jisung has civil friends," he remarks, and the man shuts the door and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okay, now you're just looking for any opportunity to throw shade," he accuses.

"Relax, Jisungie," Hyunjin hums, draping himself over the brunette with a lax smile as he stares curiously at Minho but doesn't approach him just yet. "Everyone deserves at least one chance before you decide you hate them."

"Don't even try to hide your nihilistic tendencies," Jisung grumbles under his breath, naturally reaching up to loosely grip the man's slender wrists. Hyunjin just laughs as though he had cracked something hilarious.

"Me?" he chirps innocently. "I would never!"

"Liar," Jisung huffs, but he lets Hyunjin cling to him nonetheless, waddling back to the couch and plopping down on it, tugging the taller man with him. He glances over at Minho, whose gaze is laced with amusement and he purses his lips. "So. That's Chan hyung but you've already introduced yourselves. The short one—"

"Hey! Like you're any taller!"

"—is Changbin. This one," he pokes Hyunjin's cheek, "is Hyunjin. The one over there that looks like a bear is Woojin." 

"Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Woojin," Minho echoes. "For someone with a terrible personality, you sure have a lot of friends," he decides, tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully with a slender finger. Laughter that sounded suspiciously like Seungmin and definitely like Hyunjin crawls into Jisung's ears. A tick near Jisung's eye forms and he rises, only to be grabbed by the arm and yanked back down onto the couch by Hyunjin. 

He glances back indignantly at the taller male who just smiles and shakes his head. "If you're going to attack someone just make sure we aren't there to witness it," Hyunjin chirps. "It'd be troublesome to have to testify."

"I should be discouraging attacking anyone in any way, shape, or form, but I gave up on you lot a long time ago," Chan remarks, making his way over to Seungmin and settling down beside him on the carpet before looping his arms around the brunette's waist and tugging him into his lap. The other just allows it to happen, seeming rather pleased if anything, content to just silently sit in Chan's lap and scribble down whatever he was scribbling down in his notebook.

"Wise words," Woojin finally pipes up, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He looks over Minho. "Don't mind us. For all our tough talk, I can assure you that we're harmless. For the most part." 

"Unless you put us in the kitchen without parental supervision," Changbin interjects, and Woojin nods seriously. 

"By parental supervision, he means Woojinnie or Chan hyung," Hyunjin interjects with a grin. 

"Most university children have to figure out some way to survive with all that debt they're accumulating," Minho remarks. "Otherwise they get picked off by natural selection."

"Brutal," Woojin hums, settling himself down on the armrest of the couch only to promptly have Hyunjin's head resting comfortably on his thigh. He ruffles the man's hair and looks over at Jisung. "Where's Felix?"

"Probably out with Jeongin," Jisung responds, completely missing how Minho's eyes immediately shift over to him when he speaks. "They're supposed to come over later on. Also, aren't you guys supposed to be doing a project?" He turns to stare accusingly at Changbin, Chan and Hyunjin.

"It can wait," Hyunjin decides aloud and Jisung can practically feel Chan's soul leaving his body. He's about the scold the man for his terrible work ethic (which applied to everything except dance and his dog—Jisung still wasn't sure how he was passing his any of his courses in engineering), but Woojin beats him to it. 

"Hyunjin, dear, it's best to do it soon. You'll free up more time for yourself later," the man points out calmly. 

Hyunjin only whines at that, but with a few more words, each phrase getting progressively more sappy and threatening (how that even worked was beyond Jisung), the man pulls himself to his feet and drags himself over to Changbin, flopping over him like a human blanket. Changbin remained unaffected since he was actually a rock. A small rock, but a rock nonetheless. Woojin just watches them with that same constant amusement and Jisung realizes for the umpteenth time since he had met him just how scary he could be. 

And they actually do do their work, with Seungmin retreating into the kitchen to help Minho arrange the snacks and bring them out for the others to eat while Jisung mercilessly interrogates Woojin on his thoughts of postmodernism in the 1920s. Fortunately, the man has both the patience and the tolerance to answer him while he chicken-scrawls Woojin's words on a scrap piece torn out of a 17×24, since that was the only size he had handy. Jisung notices that they seem to be getting along well with Minho, and he isn't sure what to think of it. Sure, the only suspicious thing Minho had done was actually _show up_ in the first place, but Jisung still didn't like him. There was just something intangible that bugged him, and more than anything it irritated him because he couldn't identify it. 

Thanks to Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin do collectively get work done, and by the time the trees stretch towards the sun to devour it, Jisung hears the familiar sound of keys tearing through the lock and the door opening with a cry from the hinges that probably needed some oiling. His face lights up when he sees Felix because no matter how often he had to see his face, he was still just that kind of person that you would miss when they were gone. And of course, with him was Jeongin. If anyone didn't smile at the sight of Jeongin's face alone, Jisung would be convinced that they had a heart of stone. 

"Hi, hyungs, we brought food!" Jeongin calls with a bright-eyed smile, holding bags of takeout that smelled suspiciously like fried chicken as Felix shuts the door. 

"Bless your heart," Changbin groans, rolling over on the floor and peering at the pair. 

Felix glances back with a chuckle and takes the bags from Jeongin, setting them on the table. He removes his beret and tosses it onto a box, ruffling his messy hair with his cross earring glinting in the light as it danced around with his movements. "We figured that everyone would be hungry by now."

"Chan hyung is hungry all the time," Seungmin teases, earning himself a betrayed look from the curly-haired blonde and laughter from Hyunjin, who would probably laugh at everything. 

"It's true," Woojin agrees as Jeongin pads after Felix to help him unpack the food. 

"But when it comes to chicken, the real beast is you, Woojinnie," Hyunjin hums, and the man doesn't look the slightest bit ashamed at the accusation. 

"Well then let's e—" Chan begins, only to be cut off by the sound of a hollow shattering. The mirthful atmosphere between them fragments as eight pairs of eyes turn to stare in the direction of the kitchen. Standing at the entrance, a plate scattered at his feet from where it had shattered, is a wide-eyed Minho, staring at them. For split-seconds, the silence is thick enough to slice through with a knife. 

Changbin is the first to react, lifting himself to his feet and hurrying over to Minho, carefully picking up the plate fragments and tossing them into the trash bin. He glances over at the brunette, who has barely moved at all, and grabs his wrist. "Hey, you okay?" He asks, his voice careful and mellow. Beside Jisung and Woojin, Seungmin's eyes narrow and he removes his glasses. 

"I'll go get the plates, you don't worry about it," Chan calls, heading into the kitchen. Minho only nods stiffly at both of them and steps towards the staircase with his lips pursed into a taut line.

"I'll...be upstairs," he mumbles as he passes them by without even sparing any of them a glance. 

Jisung exchanges a look with Changbin and jumps to his feet. "You guys eat first," he calls. "I'll be right back." 

"I think it'd be a better idea to leave him alone for now—" Woojin begins, but Jisung interjects with a shake of his head. 

"He's in our house, he's our responsibility." And with that he runs up the stairs and after Minho. He frowns when he's met with the darkened hallway, muted light filtering through the trees and to the windows to cast brachial shadows over the walls. 

Tentatively, he pads towards the room where he had first found Minho and he knocks on the door. When he receives no response, he feels an odd twist in his gut that sent a wave of something almost like nausea over him. He frowns and knocks again. "Hey, Minho," he calls, his voice not as belligerent as usual because no matter how much Minho bothered him, he wouldn't be able to get answers if he didn't soften his own edges a little. He sighs. "I'm coming in."

"No!" He hears the muffled dissent from behind the door when he reaches for the knob. "Don't come in." He frowns and turns it anyway, pushing the door open. 

Now that he isn't occupied with trying to knock Minho's brains out of his head, he discovers that the room is actually furnished, although he was sure that neither he or Felix had set foot in it other than to choose a bedroom. A bed stood at the left corner, a small table beside it and a lamp on the table. There's a bookshelf beside the closet, more or less empty save for a few knickknacks scattered over the shelves. A desk rests close to the door, dust clinging to its legs. Minho is seated in front of an alder vanity, his hand resting on one of the drawer handles that he had presumably slammed shut. The man turns to stare at him, his brow creased in resentment. "What part of don't come in do you not understand, Jisung?"

"Like I said before, who died and made you the boss of me?" Jisung challenges, and Minho breathes out a sigh.

"Look, Jisung. I don't have time for your games. I agreed not to bother you, so you can do the same." The man lifts his head to meet Jisung's eyes, and the overbearing warning in his gaze makes the man falter back a step. "Get out."

Jisung adamantly stays for a moment longer, meeting Minho's gaze challengingly, before spinning on his heel and leaving the scene. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that for now~ thank you very much for reading, I'll see you next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers, and welcome back! Thank you kindly for all the support you've given to me so far and I'm glad you've decided to continue reading <3  
> Thanks again for the kudos and the comments too, it's much appreciated  
> Without further ado, the chapter~

In theory, things should have been icier between them all after the incident, but the opposite transpired, and no one was about to contend with it. Minho had apologized, albeit with some reluctance, They had all forgiven him, and now things were more or less normal, if the dynamic between the nine of them could be considered normal by any means. 

"Hyunjin, why are there drone wings attached to your dog? Hyunjin put the remote down! _Put the remote down!_ "

Changbin glances up from where he's seated beside Minho, his gaze previously glued to the screen of his Mac. "I thought he wanted to bring his dog for the companionship," he groans, watching Chan run around, chasing Hyunjin while Seungmin grabs onto Kkami to stop him from being lifted into the air via drone. He sighs. "And just when we were supposed to get somewhere with this." 

"What is it?" Minho asks, looking up from another book that he had stolen from Felix, something about metaphysical solipsism, and peering over Changbin's shoulder at the screen of his laptop. 

"It's for Hyunjin's bionics capstone project and Chan's medical research thesis. I'm just in it for the extra credits. We were allowed to do it as an interdisciplinary collaboration," he informs, letting Minho see the design onscreen, a three-dimensional model of a hand of sorts, too complex for Minho to understand, with all its lines and different colours and letters that must mean something. He cocks a sculpted eyebrow. 

"A hand?"

"The next generation in prosthetics," Changbin responds. "In theory it's supposed to understand non-autonomic nervous signals like a normal hand, but that's practically impossible without some kind of computerization." Changbin shrugs. "I don't fully understand everything those two talk about sometimes— I'm just responsible for the physical design of it. Chan is taking care of the biomimicry aspect and Hyunjin is supposed to put it together with that information.

Minho nods, his gaze brightening slightly, looking fascinated. "Hyunjin doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd want to do that kind of thing."

Changbin glances over at him, closing his MacBook. "What makes you say that?" He asks. "Because he looks and acts like a dumb pretty boy?" 

"I didn't say that—" Minho begins to defend, but Changbin just shakes his head, glancing out at Hyunjin, who was now profusely apologizing on his knees to a disdainful Kkami, who rested in Seungmin's arms, after being thoroughly lectured by Chan on how attaching a homemade drone system to your dog and taking it for a test ride in an area surrounded by forest was a stupid idea that could potentially harm the poor creature. 

The man beside him just shrugs. "He knows that's what people say about him. He's not great at studying, but he's a genius. It's...hard to explain." Changbin chuckles and leans back against the lawn chair. "He hates it when people see him for his face only. Sure, he's handsome, no one's going to deny that, but he's definitely a lot more than a pretty face."

"Huh.."

Changbin glances over at Minho absently, his hair tickling the wooden wall of the cabin behind them. "What about you? Are you studying?"

Minho laughs at that, the sound only slightly forlorn and tinged with something indiscernible. "I wanted to go into agriculture. I ended up studying business management." 

"I can sense the but."

"I do squats," Minho jokes, and Changbin stares at him before rolling his eyes and cracking a small grin. Minho laughs at himself and leans back against the slightly uneven wood of the wall behind them. "But I'm not studying now."

"What do you do now?"

"Nothing really. I keep to myself most of the time. I used to have cats to keep me company, but you know how it is. They like to be alone when they die." The man's eyes darken ever so slightly, completely riding beneath Changbin's radar. Minho shrugs. "And then Jisung and Felix happened to move here one day and disturb the peace."

"Typical," Changbin replies with a grin. "Hate to break it to you, but you've got yourself the two loudest among us...and that's saying something." He glances over at the trio once again to be met with the sight of Seungmin sitting on Hyunjin's back, keeping him pinned to the grass as he protests vociferously whilst Chan carefully removes the mechanism from Kkami, who seemed much calmer than all of them, flicking an ear in an almost catlike manner and blatantly avoiding even a single look at his owner. "I like his dog," Minho remarks dryly, picking at a loose splinter on the armrest of the chair. "It's relatable."

"I'll make a note of you relating to animals," Changbin teases with a grin and Minho glances over at him, looking decidedly unimpressed. He snorts and raps his fingers over his laptop. "I guess not much is gonna get done right now," he decides, slipping it into its case which he then slides into his bag. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Me?" Minho seems surprised by the question.

Changbin nods. "Yeah. We can go hang out in the city. You probably haven't been there in a bit, huh? Loner," he teases.

"Hey, I wasn't the one that walked into this house looking like an emo tumblr aesthetic," Minho points out. 

"You act so isolated that I'm surprised you even know what that is," Changbin retorts, but there's a slight smirk on his face. "Besides, I'm not the one that perpetually looks like the candy cane section of the sweet shop." 

Minho glances down at his shirt, pinstriped in white and a baby blue. He rolls his eyes. "Well at least I have more variety and flavour than your black licorice looking mug," he decides huffily. 

"Black licorice isn't that bad, you just have no taste," Changbin retaliates and Minho's features twist into a disgusted look that he doesn't bother sugarcoating. 

"You're the one with the dead taste buds if you even remotely think that black licorice tastes good."

"Are you two really arguing about candy right now?"

The pair glance up to see Seungmin peering down at them with a cocked eyebrow. 

"We choose our battles," Changbin responds, setting his feet on the ground and standing up. He glances down at Minho and offers him his hand. "So, what do you say? Want to grab a coffee with me?" He offers. "It'll be good for you to revisit society or something."

"Ew, society," Minho drawls in response, accepting Changbin's offered hand and pulling himself to his feet. "Can't I just be the old, slightly crazy cat lady in peace?"

"You don't have any cats, Minho."

"That wounded me," the brunette gasps, gripping his shirt over his chest as though Changbin had stabbed him. Which he had. With his hurtful words. No cats indeed, how rude. And he had the nerve to look amused! Minho releases Changbin's hand. "You can get your own coffee."

"Hey, maybe we can go to a cat cafe," Changbin offers amusedly, not too affected by the somewhat whiny refusal. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I'm trying to be friendly because you seem like a cool guy."

"Are you flirting with me, Changbin?" Minho asks, his eyebrow lifting suggestively and the beginnings of a smirk creeping over his lips. The shorter man snorts so hard that he yelps and covers his nose with a wince. Minho bursts into bright, amused laughter, eyes crinkled mirthfully. "All right, I'll go out for coffee with you. But you're paying."

"Freeloader," Changbin huffs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He grins wryly and heads off to Chan's SUV since the man seemed more occupied with Kkami, who seemed to want nothing to do with Hyunjin. The poor man was still apologizing profusely and looked on the verge of tears as the canine padded onto Chan's lap and pointedly faces away from him. 

Leaving Seungmin just staring after them, dumbfounded, Changbin retrieves the keys from Chan and hops into the car, strapping himself in. Minho, after a moment's hesitation, follows him. Conveniently enough, the moment they leave, Jisung bursts out of the house, his overalls splattered in neon paint and an aerosol spray paint can brandished in his left hand and mask pulled down to his chin. Seungmin wrinkles his nose as the fumes of wet paint creep into his nostrils. Jisung doesn't seem to notice, his eyes narrowed at the retreating vehicle. "Where's he going?"

"Changbin hyung took him for coffee," Seungmin responds nonchalantly with a shrug. "They're getting along pretty well, don't you think?"

"Beats me," Jisung grumbles. "I still don't like him."

"Who, Minho? It's been what, almost a week? He hasn't done anything yet."

" _Yet_ ," Jisung emphasizes, nearly smacking Seungmin with his spray can in all his animated articulation. "Weren't you the one who kept going on about how it was suspicious that he was here? Why the sudden change of heart, huh?"

Seungmin reaches to push the offending cylinder away from his face before his skin turns a lovely shade of bright blue and shrugs. "I'm just saying that you don't really have a reason to be a jerk until he gives you a reason to be a jerk. It doesn't have a thing to do with trusting him or not, it's called being a decent person, Sung." The taller of the two shrugs. "Are you done in there yet or are we still stuck out here?"

"You can't rush art," Jisung insists. "Spending a little time away from your textbooks won't kill you, Min. Go cheer up Hyunjin or something, he looks like his world is ending." Seungmin glances back and sighs resignedly. 

"Yeah, he's been wailing for the last twenty minutes. I guess I'll go do that."

Jisung's features soften out somewhat and he chuckles. "I'll try to be less of a jerk to Minho," he promises. "But I still don't trust him."

"It's a step in the right direction," Seungmin decides with a nod, spinning on his heel to go calm Hyunjin down. Jisung watches as the taller of the two immediately smiles and he chuckles dryly, retreating back into the house and to his easel. He's been feeling inspired lately, and maybe it was at the expense of kicking his friends out of the house so they wouldn't inhale the paint fumes, but they'd live. Besides, they could have chosen to study anywhere, he wasn't sure why they insisted on coming here all the time. He pulls his mask over his mouth and nose.

* * *

It amused Changbin to see Minho oohing and aahing over everything once they reached the city, as though he were a kid being taken to the fair, but it also piqued his interest as to how the man could have been estranged from society to the point where all this would come as a nostalgic surprise to him. The brunette stopped every few blocks they travelled to stare at the oddest of amenities or other things with the covetous eyes of a magpie, and Changbin concludes that Minho really does have odd tastes after the man decides that the novelty shoppe that handmade their own modern takes on corsets is a place he'd like to visit again.

By the time they reach the cat cafe that had been promised, it's early in the evening and Changbin absently recalls that he has an applied class in a few hours. He pushes open the door for the cafe and the quaint jingling of bells tinkle sweetly through the air. 

"...oh, fancy running into you two here," Minho greets the moment he steps in, his pleased surprise evident in his cattish eyes that widen at the sight of a certain Jeongin and Felix collectively lavishing a Himalayan cat with affection, their drinks resting on the table beside them. Both sat cross legged on the carpet with the cat stretched out between them, evidently enjoying the affection. Jeongin glances up and immediately tenses.

"Hey, hyungs," Felix greets in turn when he catches sight of them. He offers them a grin and Changbin grins back while Minho chuckles and sits down with them, lifting the cat up in his hands and meeting it's blue eyes. 

"Hey, gorgeous," he hums at the cat and it stares at him quietly for a few moments before trying to bat at his nose with a chocolate paw. He chuckles and glances back at Changbin. "I want an iced americano," he declares as the feline clambers onto his shoulders, clinging to his shirt. While Changbin goes to order with a few mutters of 'freeloader', Minho turns to look at Jeongin, peering closely at him. The youngest falters slightly under his gaze, averting his eyes and shifting away. Minho shakes his head. "You're Jeongin, right? I didn't get to meet you before. Sorry about that," he hums cordially.

"Yeah...it's fine, hyung," Jeongin mumbles quietly.

Minho reaches up and rests his hand on the young man's head, his eyes crinkling slightly. "No, it's not. Hyung will make it up to you sometime for the bad first impression." Minho chuckles and ruffles Jeongin's hair before looking between him and Felix. "What's this, a date?" He chirps, his voice taking on a tinge of mischievousness. The pair exchange a look, and Jeongin is the one to nod, his dirty blonde fringe falling into sparkling, dark eyes. Minho coos and messes with Jeongin's hair again as the younger's face pinkens. "All right, I should leave you two to it then."

"No— no, it's fine," Jeongin assures, only to have Minho place a slim, small finger on his lips. 

"Nuh-uh, cutie," he scolds. "A date is between you and your special someone. If I'm here then it's not a date any more. I'll go bug Changbin, all right? You two enjoy yourselves." He smiles at them and lifts the feline off of his shoulders, setting her on the ground. "I'll see you two later. Or Felix at least." He smiles and stands up to join Changbin at one of the tables, having a morose staring contest with a ginger tabby. 

Minho sits down on the opposite side of the table and props his arm up on the table, resting his chin on his knuckles and watching the two amusedly. The cat is the first move, turning it's back regally on Changbin and brushing his nose with its erect tail as it pads over to Minho. The man sneezes and Minho grins slightly before meeting the tabby's eyes. "Hello, pretty," he coos, ruffling its ears. It runs against his arm with a purr and his eyes crinkle happily. It had been a while since he had last had feline companionship; of course when the many previous owners of the house came and went, their pets did too. He picks the cat up and holds it close to himself.

"You really do like cats, huh?"

Minho glances up to see Changbin watching him and he shrugs. "They're better than people because they don't give you unasked for opinions," he decides. 

"Kinda like my pet fish back in highschool," Changbin muses.

"Well, yeah, but cats are better." Minho kisses the top of the creature's head and glances up when Changbin retrieves their coffees, sliding the iced americano over to him. He accepts it and stands up, letting the cat hop off his lap and to the ground, rubbing against his legs. "So, should we go now?" He asks suddenly.

"We just got here," Changbin points out. "Why leave so soon?"

"Because do you really think those two want us to be here when they're on their date?" Minho hums, putting actual effort into muting his voice as he jerks a thumb at Jeongin and Felix just as the freckled blonde leans over to press an affectionate kiss to the youngest's ear, evoking a string of flustered giggles. Minho's eyes crinkle at the sight. "Let's leave them alone and go somewhere else."

"Cute," Changbin mumbles under his breath, nodding in agreement and following the brunette out of the cafe. Once they're out of eyeshot and earshot, he glances over at him. "I guess you aren't a complete ass after all."

The brunette shrugs flippantly and throws a smirk at him. "We all have that ass in us, so might as well embrace it," he chirps. "Be honest with people, no one likes a liar."

"Everyone's lied at one point, but yeah, I get that," Changbin replies. "But I think what I'm trying to get at is you're tolerable," he teases.

Minho's eyes crinkle patronizingly. "Ah, is that so?" For a few moments, neither of them speak until Changbin finally averts his eyes and grins, his teeth catching on his spiderbites.

"I take that back, you're annoying."

"You wound me."

Merry laughter accompanies them as Changbin drives aimlessly for a small while before deciding that it was best to get Minho back home so that he could leave to attend his evening class. And of course return Chan's SUV since he wasn't cruel enough to make the man walk all the way back to civilization, although he's sure that the kind idiot would do it anyway if asked. 

"Thanks for the coffee, Changbin," Minho calls as he steps out of the vehicle, practically glowing with energy from the escapade. He waves at them with a smile when Hyunjin, Chan, Seungmin and Kkami pile into the SUV to leave. When the rumble of the engine quiets and the vehicle is no longer in sight, Minho turns and pads over to the door of the cabin, iced coffee in hand. Before he can so much as raise his hand to open the door, it's slammed open and he's met with accusatory, olive eyes. 

"Why were you gone for so long?"

Minho purses his lips and sighs, striding past Jisung only to recoil at the acrid scent of paint that stained the expanse. His eyes locate the mess at the corner of the living room, covered in a mass of paint-splattered tarp. "Why are you so worried about it?" He asks sharply, displeased with Jisung's overbearance (at all the wrong times). "I thought you wanted me out of here in the first place, shouldn't you be happy that I was gone for so long?"

He glances back at the squirrel-faced man only to find him still facing the door, jaw tight with some kind of frustration. He waits patiently for the outburst, coffee still in hand, but it doesn't come. Setting his coffee down on the low table, he makes his way over to Jisung and rests a hand on his shoulder, tugging him away from the door. "You've been working the entire time I was gone," he states, tugging the brunette back. "You probably haven't eaten yet, right? Go take a break, I'll grab some snacks."

He leaves Jisung in the room while making his way to the kitchen, opening the windows in the process because the pungent stench of chemical nauseated him but he figures bringing it up probably wouldn't do a lot of good to mention it at the moment. Why he and Jisung were on such frigid terms with each other he wasn't sure, but he couldn't help becoming defensive around the younger. More than that, he swears that there's something about him that just piques at a corner of his mind. For what he wasn't sure, but it was definitely there. 

When he returns, it's to find Jisung sipping at his coffee and he huffs. "Wow, first you yell at me like a possessive wife and then you go and drink my coffee. Why are we still here? Just to suffer?" It may have chanced at dramatic, was it not spoken so soullessly, and Jisung snorts, grabbing the bowl of chips that Minho had brought out. 

"You're the one that told me to eat, don't go complaining about it."

“How courteous of you,” Minho drawls, snatching his coffee out of Jisung’s reach before he can grab it again and taking a languid sip of it. “No wonder Seungmin says that you have a terrible personality.” 

Jisung chokes on his mouthful of chips and glares at Minho. “Well you know what? He has a terrible personality too! And so do you!” He chews aggressively, his features contorted into a sulk, and Minho can’t quite resist the tug at the corners of his lips. 

“You’re so childish,” he scolds, crossing his arms loosely over his chest and leaning back against the couch. He tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, absently reminding himself to dust the cobweb streaked rafters—he really should get that cleaned. “You remind me of someone I used to know.” 

Jisung cocks an eyebrow in sudden interest and steals a side-glance at him that he pretends to not notice. "Someone you used to know?"

"Yeah. An idealistic, entitled little brat," Minho hums, sipping at his coffee again.

"Are you calling me a brat?!"

The man turns to stare at him incredulously. "Is that seriously all you took from what I just said?"

"Not my fault you implied it like it was doomsday or something," Jisung mutters. He blatantly turns his head away from Minho and crunches down on another handful of chips, only just realizing how hungry he actually was. "Besides, you sound like you have a bone to pick with whoever you're talking about."

Minho's bark of laughter sounds oddly hollow. "Well aren't we eloquent. Yeah, I guess you can say that."

"Is that why you're living like a hermit out here?" Jisung presses, facing him once again and searching his eyes. Minho can only keep his gaze for a few seconds before he stands up and shrugs. 

"That, Jisung, is none of your business," he flatly states. "Anyway, I'll go make ramyun or something before Felix gets home so you can eat together." And with that he leaves Jisung in the living room once again, the space between them ice cold and just as impregnable as before. Jisung's eyes narrow, but he doesn't call Minho back, nor does he make any effort to close the rift. They didn't mesh well for whatever unfathomable reason. Jisung tended to be the kind of person that people gravitated to naturally because of his charismatic personality, but Minho wasn't having any of it; it was unfortunate that Felix insisted on being the better person and letting him stay. 

He chews sullenly on his chips, gaze fixed on the tarp that blanketed his most recent project. The covering helped mitigate the strong scent, but it still clung to his nostrils. Maybe opening the windows was a smart idea. He coughs and breathes out a resigned sigh. Finally, he stands and strides into the kitchen with the empty chip bowl, only to find Minho, leaning over the sink and looking rather sick. He frowns and rushes over, depositing the dish in the sink. "Hey, Minho, you all right?"

The man lowers his hand from his mouth and swallows before straightening up and nodding. "Yeah." He eyes the younger dryly. "Don't worry, I won't vomit all over your floor."

"Hey, no fair, you're allowed to be sick, you know," Jisung mumbles. "I know how to make ramyun, you should go and sit down or something. Or drink water. Or both." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Actually you have to because I said so. So shoo!" He chases Minho out of the kitchen with a rubber spatula that he had grabbed from the wall. 

Minho seemed about to argue, but when he meets Jisung's eyes he just huffs out a resigned breath and pads over to the couch to lie down. "Maybe it's your paint," he mutters. "Seriously, how have you not died from inhaling paint fumes yet? You keep forgetting to open the windows."

Jisung frowns. Was it the paint?

"You just got in here, I kicked all of you out earlier for a reason," he calls back. "Being in here for a few minutes isn’t gonna kill you.” 

“You try it, your lungs are probably nice and shrivelled up if you’ve done this so many times that you don’t even notice. I’m surprised you don’t walk around wheezing like you’re a sixty year old chainsmoker,” Minho deadpans.

“I wear a mask, you know.” Jisung huffs. “I already get attacked daily by my friends, can’t you be nice to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the nicest person,” Minho mocks only to rub at his temples, bringing back Jisung’s concern. He strides over to the freezer and grabs an ice pack, lobbing it over at Minho. The man’s eyes widen and he flinches away from the ice pack, staring at it as though it had just cussed him and his mother out. 

Jisung scowls. “Okay, what’s up with that? I'm trying to help, let me be the good guy for once." He pauses when Minho doesn't respond to him, the man instead gazing at the ice pack with a haunted look in his eyes. 

Minho rises slowly to his feet and swallows thickly. "...I'll just go rest upstairs," he mutters. 

Jisung watches him retreat incredulously but makes no move to run after him. Instead he retrieves the ice pack with a bit of incoherent muttering. It doesn't chase away the worry that eats slowly away at his gut. Coldness bites at his fingertips as he stands before the fridge, lost in his thoughts. Minho’s behaviour hadn’t worsened since their first encounter. Jisung didn’t hear him screaming during the night any more, like he had for the first few days. He was integrating himself finely among their friends, but Jisung couldn’t help but be concerned about his odd behaviour.

A tick forms at his forehead as he imagines that, were Minho to hear his thoughts, the man would probably give some smart remark about how he had no right to call anyone’s behaviour odd. He sighs and tosses the ice pack into the freezer. Maybe he could lend Minho some meds to help with the recurring nausea that the man seemed to be suffering more frequently. 

“We’re home!” 

Jisung jumps, nearly bumping his head against the still open freezer door at the loud slam and familiar voice He grips his shirt over his chest and whips around to glare at the kitchen entrance. “Jeez, Lix, you trying to give me a heart attack?” he yelps. “Can’t you open a door like a normal person?”

He’s met with the head of blonde hair, but Felix’s features aren’t molded into that perpetual cheeriness that Jisung is accustomed to. Instead, the blonde waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey, Sungie, you have an extra mask? Jeongin doesn’t have one on him right now and this paint is kind of making him sick.”

Jisung’s eyes widen and he nods. “Yeah, give me a moment.” He shuts the door of the freezer and hurries out to find the younger seated on the couch with his hand covering his nose and mouth, eyes downcast. When Jeongin notices him, he lowers his hand and offers him a smile. 

“Hey, hyung—”

“Here you go, Innie,” Jisung interjects, tugging a disposable mask from a box and handing it to Jeongin. “You should’ve warned me that you were coming, I would’ve aired out the place for longer,” he scolds, poking at the blonde’s fringe.

Jeongin only laughs slightly as he slips on the mask, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry about that, hyung,” he apologizes, voice muffled beneath the thin layer that the mask provided. “Felix hyung insisted on having me over for dinner although I honestly don’t know where either of you are going to get dinner because I know neither of you can make more than ramyun,” he adds sweetly.

“...you brat,” Jisung huffs fondly. “I can’t get a break with you, eh?" 

"You can't get a break with anyone, hyung. You're just too much fun to tease," Jeongin informs bluntly and Jisung rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever, brat. So what kind of ramyun do you want?"

"You're really going to feed the poor kid ramyun?" 

Jisung glances up to find Minho perched on the rail of the staircase, his skin a healthy shade and his eyebrow cocked in that infuriatingly handsome holier-than-thou way. He scowls. "What happened to feeling sick?"

"The thought of you living off of ramyun makes me sicker so might as well not let the evils compound." Minho hops off the banister and pads down the stairs. Jisung notices that he's changed his shirt and is now comfortably trussed in a loose button down, a dusty pink in hue. The man offers Jeongin a crinkle-eyed smile and reaches over to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry, hyung will make sure you get real food."

When Minho strides into the kitchen, it doesn't take long for Felix to be chased out with a pout on his lips and a banana in his hand. Jisung stares at him blankly and Felix offers him a sheepish chuckle. "Banana?"

Jeongin bursts into laughter at that and Jisung just looks from one to the other in utter confusion until Felix tosses the banana at him without warning. Fortunately for him, his reflexes aren’t all that bad, so he’s able to catch it before it smacks him directly in the face and ruins his handsome visage. 

“Have a banana, Sung,” Felix chirps and Jeongin giggles at that. Jisung would have been indignant in any other case, did not the pair look so completely and utterly adorable that he couldn’t help himself. He settles himself down on the armrest of the couch again and tilts his head. 

“You can have your banana, Lix. Where were you two out anyway?”

“Who, us? We went to a cat cafe,” Felix informs. “And we ran into Changbin hyung and Minho there!” 

“Changbin hyung and Minho? What were they doing at a cat cafe?” Jisung asks curiously, memories of the brunette being unwilling to divulge his outing with Changbin surfacing in his mind.

Jeongin pulls his mask down and shrugs. “Not sure, but Minho hyung seemed to be enjoying being there. The cats liked him too.” Jeongin chuckles slightly and raises a knuckle to his lips thoughtfully. “He does seem like the kind of person who would like cats.” 

Jisung purses his lips, the urge to ask why he needed that information threatening to spill from his lips until he recalls the fact that he was the one that wanted to know where Minho had been and why he had been there in the first place. Why he was so concerned with the outings of the other man was beyond him, but it irritated him to know that Minho wasn’t willing to tell him. 

“Hey, Sung, you’re scowling again,” Felix calls, waving a hand in front of the brunette’s face. “If you keep doing that, your face will stick like that.” 

“It already has. Don’t you see those wrinkles in his forehead, hyung?” 

Jisung glares at the pair of them. “For the record, I hate both of you.” 

“You love me,” Jeongin disagrees, poking his tongue out at Jisung, and of course, while Jisung would never be able to refute that, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try. 

“You wish, brat.” Jisung promptly squeals as a sharp pain lances through the side of his head and he wrenches himself out of Minho’s grip, falling down onto the couch, and consequently into Jeongin’s lap as he glares up at Minho with teary eyes. He cups his sore ear with a whine. “What was that for?!”

“Are you being rude to people again?” Minho asks, cutting a scathing figure as he reaches for Jisung’s ear again. He shakes his head with a sigh. “Honestly, you irritate me.” 

Jisung shies away from Minho and scowls. “Do you not understand sarcasm? Seriously, Innie isn’t even bothered by it, so what’s your issue?” he retorts sharply. “You irritate me too, you know. I’m just dealing with you because I have to. I really don’t like you, you know.” 

“Well then the feeling is mutual,” Minho responds sharply.

Jeongin looks from one to the other and frowns, pulling the mask over his face once again and shifting away from the pair. “If you two are going to fight, can you just do it somewhere else?” he mumbles, averting his eyes from the pair.

Minho glances over at the ash blonde and sighs. “Sorry, Jeonginnie,” he apologizes. “I’ll...keep that in mind for next time.” he turns about face and treads back into the kitchen, Jisung’s eyes boring into his back hostilely. When the man disappears from sight, Jisung turns back to face Felix and Jeongin, both who are no longer smiling and he sighs. 

“I really don’t like him.” 

“He hasn’t done anything wrong. And he cleans the place and cooks for us although he doesn’t have to,” Felix points out.

Jisung cocks an eyebrow. “Lixie, he kind of has to. He can’t pay us and we own this place. So he has to pull his weight somehow.” Jisung crosses his arms. “Besides, he’s annoying.” 

“He seems nice to me,” Jeongin murmurs slowly, his eyes falling down to his lap. 

“Yeah, Sung. Other than showing up here, he hasn’t really done anything to deserve hate or even dislike, really,” Felix defends.

At that, Jisung’s hand clenches into a fist, taking with it the denim of his pants. His jaw tightens and he jumps off the armrest, leaving an imprint on the beige suede. “Something about him just rubs me the wrong way,” he mutters. “I don’t like the aura he gives off, Lix, Innie. It spells trouble, I know it does.” he stares at them, olive eyes wide and challenging. “And if you aren’t going to believe me, then you go live in your own fantasy. I don’t like him, and you can’t change that.” 

With that, Jisung trudges up the staircase, disallowing the blondes even a moment to respond to him. Of course they wouldn’t believe him. Of course they wouldn’t understand. They were too kind to everyone; it was a fault in both of them. Jeongin could have the sharper tongue of the pair of them, but it didn’t change the fact that the youngest was just as hopelessly kind as Felix was. Of course they would give Minho the benefit of the doubt.

Jisung couldn’t do that. It wasn’t in his nature to trust. Even Seungmin, whom he would consider his best friend (although he would never admit it aloud), couldn’t earn his trust for months, maybe even years. Felix was the only one he trusted, and even that laid on a tentative line that should not be tampered with. 

He traces a crack in the wall, casting falling onto his fingertips in a fine dust, idly wondering how Changbin would throw a fit if he saw it. His jaw tightens again and a thud resounds through the expanse as his fist makes contact with the crack, his brow furrowing to the point where his forehead was beginning to ache. He lowers his hand and rakes his fingers through his hair.

Maybe he had made a mistake in agreeing to buy this place. 

He steps towards his room, but pauses as he passes by the door of the empty one; no, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t empty since that was where Minho slept. Jisung feels a sudden urge tug his arm to the doorknob. His fingers curl around the cool metal that glints mockingly at him. He frowns, a breeze causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. After a few moments, he pushes the door open and peers in.

It looks almost just as it had when he had first seen it, sparsely furnished with a bed, bookshelf, vanity and desk. The closet remains firmly shut, but this time a book or two lay abandoned, one on an empty shelf and the other on the desk. Jisung frowns, feeling as though he should leave it alone; it wasn’t his business to root through Minho’s belongings. 

Of course, the impulsive side of his brain (which was probably most of his brain) wins out and he pads towards the desk, peering down at the book on it. He scans over the words only to breathe out a sigh. It was just one of Felix’s dumb philosophy books. Jisung would adamantly insist that he never understood just why Felix liked those so much.

The pages ruffle back to their place as Jisung lifts his hand, his gaze drifting to the open book on the shelf. He grabs it and flips through it with pursed lips. This book was definitely not Felix’s because Jisung knew that anything with numbers was the easiest way to have the blonde flee into the next hemisphere, and there were definitely numbers scrawled in this book. If Jisung didn’t know any better, it seemed to be more of a collection of invoices than anything. Why Minho would even have so many invoices was beyond Jisung. Maybe he was an accountant.

That made no sense either, because if Minho had a job that produced a stable amount of money, then there would be no need to hide out here in the middle of nowhere and have the desperation to stay for that matter. Jisung looks over the invoice carefully, trying to decipher it. He squints at the characters with a frown, cursing his limited ability to read hanja.

A large sum was written on the sheet and Jisung could discern a few names printed, although he didn’t know how to say them. He purses his lips and flips through the book, eyeing the collection of invoices; there were far more of them than he had accounted for, and again, it brought up the pressing question of just what Minho was doing with them. Not to mention the fact that the man must have been well-versed if he was able to read this fluently. 

His brow creases and he turns the page once more only to jump and yell, startled, as the door flies open. His eyes widen when he sees Minho staring at him incredulously, something that seemed almost like fear worming into his gaze. As soon as it appears it’s gone, leaving Jisung to wonder if it had been there in the first place. It’s replaced with something that borders on anger, and Jisung feels his blood run cold.

“Lee Jisung, what do you think you’re doing?” Minho asks, his voice icy and quiet. 

“I— I was just—” 

“I’ve told you once to not interfere with my matters and I won’t interfere with yours. Get out.” 

Jisung glances down at his arm, only to find goosebumps sprouting over his skin. He drops the book and runs past Minho, fleeing the scene with his ears burning at the shame of being caught red-handed. Minho purses his lips and bends down to retrieve the book that Jisung had abandoned on the floor in his haste. He pauses and stares at the page. 

Breathing out a slow sigh, he makes his way to the vanity and sets the book on it, shutting it carefully. Pulling open a drawer, he retrieves a clipboard and flips through the papers attached to it until he happens upon the one he’s searching for. Round face, wide, olive eyes, small mouth, straight nose….even with that godawful haircut, the face was recognizable.

“....Han Jisung, huh,” he murmurs, sitting himself down at the vanity and staring at the profile information printed onto the paper. Lip catching between his teeth, he picks at the corner of the profile with his fingernail. He lowers the clipboard and throws his head back, staring at the cracks in the ceiling blankly. A sigh passes his lips as his head falls into his hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! I'm sorry, it may seem a little confusing right now, but I promise it'll make sense~  
> I hope you all enjoyed, and I'll see you next chapter <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the next chapter, dear readers~  
> Again, I'd like to thank you all very much for your support and kudos and kind comments, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story <3  
> Without further ado, let's go

It starts with a pain that creeps up Jisung’s arm, a prickling kind of pain, so negligible that it’s almost a tickling sensation. It spreads to his chest, down his abdomen, up to his neck. It grows stronger until it resembles needles, acute and precise. Jisung’s breath catches in his chest from the lances of pain that shoot through his body like liquid fire. 

He jolts awake, a cold sweat beading at his forehead, his body recollecting the remnants of that unfamiliar throbbing pain. Eyes wide, he stares blankly at the door, nearly rolling off of his mattress. His body felt heavy, as though he had suddenly lost all semblance of strength, and although he tries to move, he can only curl the fingers of his outstretched arm.

The draft present in the room seeps uncomfortably into his skin and he finally manages to pick himself off of the mattress to shut the window, staring out at the petite drops of water that dripped down the glass, catching the sunlight and glimmering like jewels. His knees buckle and he grabs hold of the windowsill so that he doesn’t just fall into a crumpled heap on the messy floor. 

He buries his face in his arm with a groan and pulls himself up, suddenly wishing that Felix was there at least. Help sounded nice at the moment, but he wasn’t going to call for it. He was far too prideful for that. Raising his head, he rubs at his eyes before pulling himself upright again. His legs tremble under his sparse weight, but regain their strength after a few minutes. His fingers curl against the wood of the sill and then clench into loose fists. 

What was that? His mind feels fuzzy, as though there’s something that he should be able to recall but can’t. Breathing out a tired sigh, he trudges out of the room, nearly tripping over a package of clay laying by the door. He moves it aside and drags himself out and to the bathroom with a yawn. The waning ache in his muscles ebbs away as he lets warm water run over him and he emerges from the shower feeling refreshed. 

Wrapping himself in a housecoat, he pads downstairs, raising an eyebrow at the loud snoring he could hear from Felix’s room. He shakes his head and chuckles softly to himself as he enters the kitchen, only to be struck by the scent of coffee. Actual coffee, not that instant stuff that was a university student’s lifeline. 

“Oh, hey, you’re up. Coffee?” Minho offers him a chipmunk mug with a lax smile, and Jisung just stares blankly at him for a moment before accepting it quietly with a nod. His fingers wrap around the cool handle and he raises the mug to his lips, feeling the warmth brush over his mouth. He isn’t sure how he should react to someone who had been understandably enraged with him the night before, but Minho was just smiling again and acting like absolutely nothing was wrong with the world, and for some odd reason, that ambivalent attitude pricked at Jisung’s ire. 

There's a taut silence pulled between them as Jisung sips at the coffee, certainly appreciative of it but unable to shake the discomfort he feels from Minho’s presence. His fingertip runs across the warm rim of the mug, eyeing the steam that arose from the dark beverage in translucent curlicues. He pointedly avoids the man’s gaze as he sips at his coffee until the weight of the silence becomes too heavy for him. He clucks his tongue and turns to stare at Minho. “I get it, I’m handsome, but don’t you have anything better to do than stare at me?”

Minho snorts gracelessly at that and pointedly turns away from Jisung, leaning with his elbow propped on the counter. “Do you wear glasses, Jisung? Because you need a pair if you really think you’re handsome.” And really, his disdainful blink should have been the most irritating thing, but in the muted light cast through the frosted glass, wispy shadows cast over Minho’s cheekbones from his long lashes and Jisung purses his lips.

“Hey, let a man have some self-confidence,” he mutters, unsure of whether he wanted to laugh at Minho’s scornful comment or retort sharply. The corner of the man’s lips quirks upward in a smirk, and Jisung decides that he wants to smack him. Not that he had the motivation to get up to do it in the first place, but the thought itself was gratifying enough, he supposed. 

He tenses as Minho crosses over to him and sets a hand in his hair. He flinches away and glares up at the man who just peers silently down at him, scrutinizing him in relative silence. Minho tugs at his hair lightly before moving away from him and to the stove. “Here, eat your food and go to your classes.” He lays out a plate on the table and wipes his hands with a dishcloth before leaving Jisung in the kitchen to fend for himself and hopefully not break anything in the process. Jisung stares at his retreating back and grudgingly takes the food that Minho had prepared. Was Minho really going to pretend that nothing happened? He was behaving stranger than usual.

Jisung, lost in his thoughts, only looks up when he feels something poke him in the forehead. He looks up to meet Felix’s chocolate eyes that stare down at him worriedly. “Sungie?”

He pushes the blonde’s hand away. “Yeah, what’s up, Lixie?”

“I called you six times and you weren’t answering me,” Felix remarks. “Plus you’re being too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“I can be quiet if I want to be,” Jisung pouts. 

Felix stares at him blankly for a few moments before breathing out a resigned sigh. “Come on, Sung, let’s head out. I gotta be in the lecture hall in thirty.” 

“Yeah. Lecture hall. All right.” Jisung rises stiffly to his feet, his thoughts whirling haphazardly about in his mind. He strides forward, only for fingers to wrap around his arm and tug him back. He glances back to find himself staring into cattish eyes. He tenses.

Minho purses his lips and releases him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he scolds. “You nearly walked into the fridge, are you even paying attention to your surroundings?”

“Why do you think I’m not?” Jisung bites back. At Minho’s silence, he nods. “That’s what I thought.” He strides out of the kitchen, waving for Felix to follow him. He ignores the blonde’s questions. He couldn’t tell Felix his suspicions. There were few things that they hid from each other, but Jisung wonders if Felix would call him paranoid. He couldn’t risk Felix running his mouth, but he needed to tell someone. Maybe Woojin or Seungmin. 

For the second time, Jisung parks at the Faculty of Medicine and rushes through the campus in his haste to not get to his own lecture, which wasn’t scheduled for another hour, instead hurrying to the library. Felix, abandoned in the car, stares after him with a frown before letting out a resigned sigh and locking the car. 

“Hey, hyung, where’re you off to?” Jisung screeches to a stop at the familiar voice and glances back at Jeongin. The younger blinks at him and grins, a slight, dry thing. “Wow, hyung, you look like more of a mess than usual.” 

“Gee, thanks for your support, Innie.” Jisung frowns. “I’m looking for Min. I figured he’d be in the study hall.” 

“I was just there, actually, I passed by while getting some books. I didn’t see him,” Jeongin informs. Jisung huffs and slumps against the wall, looking visibly disheartened. 

"He's not here?"

"Nope. Well, he could be, but I haven't seen him. He was still in our dorm room when I left. Why, what do you need him for?"

Jisung sighs. "Just needed to ask him about stuff. But I guess that can wait. How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine. Minho makes good kimchi stew." Jeongin grins. "It's nice to know that you and Felix hyung don't have to live off of instant ramyun and convenience store tteokbokki," he jokes. 

Jisung purses his lips and averts his eyes. "Yeah, he does cook pretty well, I guess." 

Jeongin watches him quietly before shifting to stand beside him. "Hey, hyung, is it just a hunch?"

"A hunch?" Jisung glances up at the blonde in bemusement. "What do you mean?"

"Just a hunch that something is wrong. Or has he done something that we don't know?" Jeongin's brow furrows slightly, and Jisung does have to admit that the younger looks far past his age like that. His gaze flickers between Jeongin's eyes and the ground.

"I just...don't know anything about him, Innie. Although he's been there for a while, we don't know anything about him. How am I supposed to trust him?" Maybe that was true to some extent, but Jisung couldn't fight the bitter kind of heaviness on his tongue, as though he had just lied, but he refuses to take his words back.

Fortunately, Jeongin doesn't notice. The young man's fingers curl around the strap of his bag and he bites his lip thoughtfully. “Hyung, have you considered trying to get to know him?” he suggests honestly. “Because if you don’t try, how can you expect to know anything about him? He really doesn’t seem that bad. And he hasn’t done anything to you or Felix hyung. Can’t you judge him on the things he’s proven for himself instead of what you don’t know about him?”

“I don’t know, Innie, that’s a risky game you’re playing,” Jisung sighs. “Being too trusting isn’t good too, you know.” 

“Yeah, but isn’t it better to give him a chance? Rather than always fighting or avoiding each other.” 

Jisung shrugs noncommittally and pushes himself off of the wall. “Maybe.” He offers Jeongin a dry smile and musses his hair. “I swear I’ve been trying to be a decent human being, but every time I encounter him he just rubs me the wrong way.”

“Then I’ll talk to him about rubbing you the right way,” Jeongin responds thoughtfully, tapping his knuckle to his lips innocently. Jisung’s eyes widen and his face reddens.

“What— Jeongin!” 

“What? I’m just saying maybe there’s something he can do to make whatever is going on better,” Jeongin hums, unfazed. He pauses before smirking. “Seriously, hyung, get your mind out of the gutter.” Jisung sputters and groans, raking his fingers through his hair, flustered. 

“Sure. Yeah. I’ll just go and call Min or something, I really need to talk to him,” Jisung quickly segues, laughing awkwardly. He pats Jeongin’s shoulder. “I’ll see you round, Innie.” And he flees the scene because if he doesn’t, he swears he’s going to combust from Jeongin’s embarrassing statement; his cheeks were burning.

Settling down on the edge of a stone tree planter in the courtyard, Jisung pulls his phone from his bag and taps on Seungmin’s contact. He holds the device to his ear and stares distantly at nothing in particular as he waits for the boy to pick up his phone. If he wasn’t at the campus studying, then he was probably in the dorms, but Jisung wasn’t about to go randomly show up at his place, mainly because he knows that Seungmin doesn’t like those kind of unexpected appearances. 

“Jisung? Why’re you calling?”

Seungmin’s voice sounds muffled and rather exhausted, and Jisung frowns. Seungmin wasn’t the kind to pull all-nighters since the man deemed it inefficient and tried to avoid it as much as was possible, but at the moment it sounded like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before. He chuckles slowly. “Wow, not even a hello?”

“No, seriously, Sung, I’m busy right now. Is it important?”

“I...it’s about Minho,” Jisung admits after a moment’s hesitation. There’s a pause on the line and Jisung realizes that, uncontextualized, Seungmin would probably hang up on him just for that. He frowns. “I mean—”

“Understandable, what’s the problem?” Seungmin interjects before he can explain himself.

Jisung blinks owlishly. “What?”

Another pause, and then a drawn out sigh. “I’m asking what the problem is. Did he do something to you or Felix? Is he acting strange? Or…?”

Jisung frowns. “I don’t know. I… I found some invoices in his room. I'm pretty sure they were invoices, but I couldn't tell because they were written entirely in hanja." He sighs and leans back, his hair brushing the tree behind him. "And there were huge amounts of money owed on those invoices, Min. Like, hundred millions of won." 

"Changbin hyung did say he used to study business management," Seungmin muses, the tightness in his voice hinting at the fact that he was trying to suppress a yawn. 

"Well, okay, but then what is he doing all the way out there?" Jisung points out. "He'd probably be able to get a job easily enough in the city." Jisung can practically see Seungmin's eyes rolling at him, but at least he was being listened to, general scorn aside. 

"I don't know, Jisung, I don't know him," Seungmin drawls out. "Now is that all you wanted to talk about? I really have something I should be getting to—"

"Nothing is more important to you than me, Min," Jisung chirps, chuckling. 

"Keep wishing," Seungmin retorts breezily. "Anyway, you don't worry too much about Minho. He's just one of a kind is all. You have better things to worry about." 

"Heh. Yeah, you're right," Jisung admits grudgingly, staring up at the clouds. "You should probably get some rest or something, you sound half-dead."

"Thanks. I feel like it too."

Jisung grins wryly. "It's not like you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Sure you are."

"I am! I was busy last night. Doing some research." Jisung frowns at that, and opens his mouth to speak, but Seungmin beats him to it. "It was something that I couldn't put off."

"Says the one that stays two weeks ahead of homework and assignments."

"Don't wisecrack me, Sung," Seungmin grumbles.

"I'll do whatever I want." A resigned sigh enters Jisung's ear and he grins victoriously. He hears muffled noise that he couldn't quite discern. 

"Anyway, I'm thinking of having a study session after lunch so I'll probably see you at the cafeteria later. See you then." And with that, the brunette hangs up abruptly, leaving Jisung staring at the screen of his phone indignantly, unable to even fit in a complaint. He pockets his phone with a pout and pushes himself to his feet.

When he lifts his head, it's only to find Chan peering at him curiously. He yelps and jumps back, nearly tripping over the planter, but is caught by the man's monster reflexes. He huffs and corrects his balance before crossing his arms over his chest. "Warn a man, seriously, hyung," he huffs.

"I was right here, I didn't think I'd have to warn you," Chan responds a glimmer of amusement in his voice. "What are you doing here? Isn't your building on the other side of the campus?"

Jisung shrugs. "Honestly at this point I've parked at your building so many times that everyday is legday," he remarks. "I've got twenty minutes to get there anyway." He stares at up at Chan. "Wow, you look extra tired, hyung. Why's everyone looking exhausted today?"

"I don't feel too bad," Chan insists. "I'm feeling pretty confident for that pop quiz on advanced protein synthesis. Thank goodness I studied that one last night." 

"You know Min wouldn't be too happy knowing that you stay up at ungodly hours of the night, right?" Jisung hums, beginning to walk away. Footsteps behind and then beside him alert him that Chan is following him. He glances over to find Chan wearing a lopsided half-smile.

"Oh, definitely. He probably already has all 206 bones to pick with me,” the blonde responds with a chuckle. “But that’s just how he is. He worries about everyone.” 

Jisung nods. “Yeah, he does, doesn’t he? Reminds me of someone else I know.” He stares pointedly at Chan, who in turn, raises his hands disarmingly. 

“With a group like all of you, can you really blame me?” he points out. “You do stupid things. More often than can be considered normal, if I might add.” 

Jisung rolls his eyes and grins. “You love us.” 

“I ask myself every day why I put myself through it,” Chan hums, poking Jisung’s bicep. “I bleach my hair so at least if it goes white it doesn’t look like it’s because of all of you.” 

Jisung chuckles. “I can hear your scalp crying for help, hyung.” he pushes Chan, but the man doesn’t budge because he’s just too much muscle. Jisung pushes him again and then just settles for pinching his bicep. “I’m gonna head out now, hyung. If you see Min anywhere, let him know I want to talk to him later.” 

“Sure thing, Sung. Will I see you in the studio this evening, or…?”

Jisung pauses, giving it a few moments’ thought before smiling and shaking his head. “Not today, hyung. I’ve got other plans,” he decides. “I’ll make it up to you though.” Normally Chan wouldn’t be so lenient with him, but he rarely asked to skip their regular meetups at the studio anyway so he supposed that Chan assumed he had important things to do. The truth was, he didn’t, but Jeongin’s advice was prickling at his conscience and he supposes that actually putting some effort into not being so irascible with Minho. Chan nods, and Jisung takes the opportunity to run off because now he only had ten minutes to get to the lecture hall.

Curse him for parking at the wrong building.

* * *

Seungmin throws down the stack of papers in his hand, scattering it messily over the floor. He massages his temple and stares down at the offending sheets as though glaring at them for long enough would cause them to combust. It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense and it was driving him up the wall. Dark spots under his eyes refused to be hidden, even against the glare on his wire-rimmed glasses, and his hands were shaking slightly from the negligence to eat, he had been so engrossed in his task.

“How long have you been working on that same thing, hyung? You really should take a break. Go out and take some pictures or something.” A plate of choppy apple slices is placed on the desk beside him and he glances up to offer Jeongin a grateful smile. 

“Thanks, Jeongin,” he sighs, reaching for a slice and biting lazily into it. “I don’t know, honestly. Something’s just...been on my mind recently, I guess. But it’s probably just one of those days.”

“Hyung, you’ve been in here for nearly the entire day.” Jeongin props his arms up on the desk and leans over, peering at Seungmin. He tilts his head slightly and straightens up again with a sigh. “Jisung hyung was waiting for you hours ago.”

“Yeah, I’ll apologize to him later,” Seungmin mumbles, swallowing the other half of his apple slice and then pushing his chair back and rising to his feet to retrieve the scattered papers. “Don’t worry about it, Jeongin. I’ll finish it up soon. I have better things to work on anyway.” He can feel the narrow-eyed gaze piercing his back as he collects the papers and smacks them down against the floor to straighten them out. 

Maybe he could occupy himself with something else for the time being, like with photography, as Jeongin had suggested. Or he could clean their room again, but he had done that at least three times yesterday, so that couldn’t be an excuse. He breathes out a sigh and places the stack of papers facedown on his desk before kicking off his slippers and laying down on his bed. He removes his glasses and his vision focusses on Jeongin. “You look well today.”

“Normally people would say that I look good, you know,” Jeongin responds, grabbing three pieces of apple and promptly shoving them into his mouth. Seungmin would never know where food went in the boy’s mouth; it was a black hole— everything that went into it vanished from the fabric of time and space, Seungmin swears.

He rolls onto his back and groans as the soreness from sitting upright in a decidedly uncomfortable chair for hour on end kicks in, sending a stiff ache through his body. “Well, you already know that you look good, so I don’t think that I need to tell you that. But you’re looking healthier.”

“I’m plenty healthy, hyung. I’m not the one that looks half-dead right now.”

“I’m not going to try and bring up why that statement isn’t correct,” Seungmin sighs. He sits upright. “Are you going someplace with Lix today?”

Jeongin shakes his head. “I’m heading for my checkup and then going to visit home after,” he states. 

“Oh? Just a visit or do your parents have something important that you have to do?”

Jeongin shudders and pouts slightly, his eyes glimmering. “I hope not. I don’t even see the point of attending their business parties.” He sits himself down in Seungmin’s chair and tilts his head. “It’s not like they can brag about me or anything. I’m pretty average in every sense. I’m not charismatic like Chan hyung and I’m not a genius like Hyunjin hyung. I’m not as good at studying as you either. Plus I’m sickly.”

“Jeongin,” Seungmin sighs, sitting upright on the bed and cocking his head, “what did I tell you about this?”

“Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t compare myself to other people, but—”

“But nothing, Innie,” Seungmin states firmly. He stands and makes his way over to the youngest, ruffling his hair and staring him in the eye. “You’re young. You’re younger than all of us, but you were still able to graduate at the same time as the rest of us. You’ve got a lot of potential, and you’ve got something unique too.” Seungmin grins down at him. “You draw people to you naturally. Kids love you. Stop trying to fit into someone else’s framework and just do what you love to do. If you want to teach, then teach." 

Jeongin chuckles, the dimples on his cheeks making an appearance as he ducks under Seungmin’s hand. “Maybe I wasn’t feeling bad, maybe I was just trying to compliment you and Chan hyung and Hyunjin hyung,” 

“You? Compliment me? Let me go check for pigs flying real quick,” Seungmin drawls, pushing Jeongin’s head gently. He chuckles and pokes Jeongin’s dimple. “Whatever your parents need you for, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” 

“You try being stuck in an overstarched suit that weighs a quarter of what you do with a permanently damaging amount of product in your hair and talking to a million pretentious people that you barely know anything about, _and_ having to _smile_ the entire time. And not being able to punch anyone in the face! Hyung, if it’s a party I’ll scream.” 

Seungmin purses his lips. “Okay, that does sound pretty bad. But don’t punch anyone, Innie, it’s too much trouble if someone files a case.” 

“Enough money and you can get away with anything," Jeongin jokes dryly. When all he receives in response is an unamused stare, he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah, okay. No punching people.” Jeongin sighs and scratches his cheek with a nail. “Honestly, I think you’d probably feel more at home at one of those meetings than I do.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Seungmin chuckles, messing with Jeongin’s hair again. It was difficult to keep one’s hands off of someone who was as cute as the younger, and Seungmin knew that he wasn’t the only one who shared the sentiment. 

Jeongin nods seriously. “Yeah, I’ve seen you go after Jisung hyung’s head way too many times— maybe you’re right.” 

“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“I’ll agree with whoever I want to,” Jeongin retorts. He stands and cracks his neck. “Anyway, I’ll be heading out now. You’ll take a break, right, hyung?”

“I’m taking a break right now, aren’t I?” Seungmin points out. When the younger meets his eyes, unimpressed, he chuckles and shrugs noncommittally. “We’ll see, Jeongin, we’ll see.”

He watches the younger slip on a pair of runners and grab his bag before leaving the room with a quick wave that he lazily returns. Left alone, Seungmin sits down at his desk again, casting his eyes over the sparsely furnished room. It was only their beds and the few belongings that they had brought with them. Their clothes hung in the same closet with a guitar and Jeongin’s handheld game console lay on his unmade bed. The blinds were pulled over the window and closed so that the light that managed to disperse through the cracks was only far and few in between.

For the messiness of his bed, Jeongin’s desk was perfectly tidy, his textbooks organized and papers kept neatly in files. Seungmin chuckles slightly and props his elbow up on the face of his own desk, his other hand reaching for the bat that lay cradled between the leg of the table and the wall. His fingers curl around the knob and he hefts the bat up, tossing it and grabbing it by the grip. 

For a few moments, he holds it hesitantly before letting it fall to the ground with a dull thump as it hits the laminate wood. He straightens up and opens his laptop. That was enough of a break. 

He taps the palmrest impatiently, waiting for the device to turn on. The moment it does, his fingers fly over the keyboard, wasting no time in the procurement of what information he was seeking. He rubs his tired eyes absently and reopens a bookmarked site, scrolling through it. His jaw tightens at the results that fly up onscreen once he types into the searchbar of the public records source. Why did so many parents have to name their kid Minho anyway? There were way too many Minhos in the world. Maybe having his surname would’ve made things easier, but nothing was ever so easy.

Invoices, huh. That’s what Jisung had mentioned. Seungmin opts not to question why Jisung was rooting through Minho’s things in the first place, mainly because it made no sense for Minho to have belongings in the first place. Of course, Seungmin had been the one to advocate in Minho’s favour because he didn’t want to see what kind of chaos would arise from Jisung making another enemy in his own home. And for Felix’s sake too.

There was something that didn’t sit right with Seungmin. Minho shouldn’t have been in that house to begin with. There were no records of him either owning it or renting it. The previous owners had taken all their belongings with them; the place should have been virtually empty except for utilities, if Jisung and Felix’s property deeds were anything to go by. The house should have been empty. So it was strange that the two could have missed seeing either Minho or his property while seeing the house, much less moving into it.

Seungmin pulls off his glasses and leans a little closer to the screen as he scans over images and information. He had been up nearly all night doing just the same, he surprised himself with the fact that he could still process entire sentences. Of course he could have put it off, but it wasn’t worth the risk. If Minho was under the legal radar, then he could be dangerous. Seungmin wasn’t about to risk Felix or Jisung, although both seemed perfectly fine. He couldn’t trust that it would last. 

He reaches for the remainders of the apple that Jeongin had cut up and chews on a slice as he continues his search. He breathes out a long sigh. Maybe the surname wouldn’t be so helpful after all. Too many people had the _exact same_ name, and if Seungmin had to go through another two hundred ‘Kang Minhos’ again, he’d probably slam his head into a philosophy textbook and directly ask Minho to legally change his name.

Sufficiently jaded, he rests his cheek in the palm of his conveniently propped up hand. He skims through a few hundred more profiles and by this point, whether it was actor Lee Minho or elementary student Lee Minho or senior citizen Lee Minho, everything was blurring together. He sighs and locates his next profile. 

Only to stop short and nearly knock his chair over with how quickly he stands up. His eyes widen and he reaches for his glasses just to ensure that he wasn’t just sleep deprived enough to formulate false information and somehow transport it into his line of vision. 

He leans down and stares at the image. No, that was definitely Minho. Lee Minho, actually, his mind supplies unhelpfully. The long lashes, cat eyes, round lips and refined nose were definitely Minho’s. In fact, they were alarmingly Minho’s, as though the image could have been taken within the last year or so. Which was indeed alarming, once Seungmin considered the fact that the profile had last been updated nineteen years ago.

“No…” Seungmin murmurs slowly, incredulously to himself, tracing the information with his fingertip. His brow furrows. Surely this was some kind of joke. But then again, who was masochistic enough to even want to go through the millions of public profiles just to find one specific Lee Minho and tamper with his information specifically? The legal complications and mental fortitude that required was too troublesome. That was stretching it, even for Seungmin, who was renown among his friends for playing pranks.

Seungmin frowns. It made even less sense to the logical side of his mind that tended to overrule any other part of his brain that kept him from acting on his impulses like Jisung or Hyunjin would. He purses his lips, the sudden urge to just demand answers directly from the man himself washing over him. He draws in a slow breath and gathers himself. No, that wasn’t a smart thing to do. Not off the bat at least. 

Lee Minho, if his information from his public records served him correctly, should be in his forties. Or he would be, did he not die twenty years ago. Some other pertinent information wasn’t available for Seungmin’s eyes, but now that he’s on the trail, he doesn’t doubt that he’d be able to locate it with a little more exploration. Not at the moment though, he needed to take a breath. 

Seungmin frowns and grabs his phone, snapping an image of the screen. He breathes out slowly, and stands. Staring at a screen constantly wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his vision, it would probably be better to have a hard copy on hand. It did mean a trip to the campus, but Jeongin would probably be happy to know that he wasn’t holing himself up in the dorm room for the entire day. Besides. The revelations were leaving him lightheaded. Maybe the fresh air would do him good.

Throwing on a pullover, Seungmin slips his laptop into its case and his phone into his pocket before treading out of the room, casting a careful glance around before padding out into the corridor. It was that time in the evening, wherein people would either be in lecture halls or out partying, depending on the person, so Seungmin wasn’t too worried about being questioned about his wanderings. 

Breathing out a sigh, he pads down the long flights of stairs to kill time, greeting whoever he encountered with a brief polite nod or a few words. It takes a few minutes to get from the upper floors to the ground level, but his mind is wrapped around his newfound information. 

The more he muses on it, the more it makes some morbid sense, how the house currently under both Jisung and Felix’s names was sold on the alleged fact that the place was haunted, how Minho should neither be in the house, nor have any possessions in the house, how he never seemed interested in leaving… Seungmin shakes his head slowly and laughs dryly to himself as he pads out of the dormitory, laptop tucked safely into the crook of his elbow.

The air was humid; the scent of impending rain permeated Seungmin's senses, but he wasn't about to return to his room just to grab an umbrella. He'd just have to hope that there was no downpour either on the way to the library or on the way back. He strides on his not-so-merry way, his gaze somewhat unfocussed.

So many fragments were only beginning to piece themselves together, but Seungmin only found himself with more questions. Why was Minho there? Who was Minho? Who _is_ Minho? _What_ is Minho? His brow creases with the weight of his thoughts. He never would have considered himself admitting the possibility of a supernatural, but it was the only explanation he had. The explanation with the least holes, at the very least, although that wasn't saying much.

Seungmin pushes past the library doors and takes a moment to collect himself, his hair slightly damp from the smattering of rain outside. He ruffles out his hair to dry it as he heads for the printer. Scanning his ID with one hand, he tugs out his laptop with the other and opens up the files before selecting for them to be printed. He stares at the image of Minho's face. Yes, it was a disturbingly spitting image of Minho they knew. Seungmin feels his stomach turn.

He shuts his laptop and retrieves his papers, turning about face only to jump slightly as he finds a hoodie-clad Chan observing him silently at a rather close proximity. When he falters back, hitting the printer, the blonde chuckles and tilts his head. "Careful, Minnie, don't hurt yourself."

"Prospectively hurting myself wouldn't be an issue right now if you just announced your presence, you know," Seungmin remarks, feeling the corners of his ears warm when Chan's eyes crinkle in amusement. "What are you here for anyway?"

"I needed to print copies of some notes from today's internship period is all," Chan hums, stepping past him to do just that. "What are you doing here?" Seungmin hesitates to respond, but before he has the chance to, the blonde suddenly reaches up to press the bags under his eyes gently, glints of worry shining in his dark eyes. "And why do you look so tired? Have you been sleeping properly?"

Seungmin relaxes and exhales slowly, reaching up to touch Chan's hand, his skin warming underneath the man's touch. "I've been busy with some things. You know how it is, hyung. Besides, I really don't think you should be the one telling me that I look tired." He chuckles dryly. "Do I really look that bad?"

"You never look bad. You just look exhausted, like you didn't sleep at all. What's so important for you to forego sleep?" Chan's fingers shift to cradle Seungmin's cheek. "Baby, you shouldn't fall into unhealthy habits like that," he scolds. 

Seungmin can't help but smile slightly at the man's words. He was caring to a fault, but maybe that was one of the attributes that had drawn Seungmin to him in the first place. An urge to care for someone who only knew how to care. He shakes his head slowly.

"Like I said, I don't want you telling me that, hyung," Seungmin retorts, not unkindly. He lowers Chan's hand from his face since although he was feeling rather nice and warm at the familiar touch, he had things to do and didn't want to be distracted. He glances over at the printer and retrieves Chan's copies of notes, handing them to him. 

Maybe he ought to just tell Chan. If there was anyone he knew he could trust, it was Chan. Maybe the man would either snap him to his senses or help him figure out just what was going on...or both. He casts another glance around the sparsely populated library before his eyes fall on the blonde once again. "Hyung, there's something I need to figure out," he states, a rhythm of urgency in his voice that is immediately picked up on by the older. "Do you have time to spare?"

Somehow Seungmin found himself dragged to the campus cafe with the quieter atmosphere but pricey coffee, a latte warming his hands, and Chan seated across from him on the small table with his own beverage. Seungmin watches him carefully before finally pulling his papers from his laptop bag and pushing them across the tabletop, towards the other. 

"To be honest, I've had suspicions about Minho ever since Jisung brought him up," Seungmin murmurs, keeping his voice low. "So I did a bit of research and...well, this is what I found."

He can feel the stare on him shift to something more dubious, but he just watches with a silent insistence until the man picks up the papers and reads over them, his eyes progressively widening, and the previously at-ease expression on his face tightening into something grave. Seungmin didn't like seeing that expression on him, it seemed to add to his constantly overloaded mind.

"So...it was true?" Chan asks after presumably reading the profile a few more times. He lays the papers down on the table and meets Seungmin's eyes. 

"What was true?" Seungmin questions in turn.

"That the house was haunted." 

Silently, Seungmin breathes out a sigh of relief. So he wasn't crazy for immediately coming to that conclusion after all. He keeps away the documents again and shrugs slightly, taking a draught of his latte. His tongue flicks out to clean the foam off his upper lip and blinks slowly. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then maybe."

"That's definitely Minho. And Minho is presumably dead according to the documents, but…"

Seungmin wipes away the tiredness that clings at his mind when he hears Chan's words, curious enough about the man's insights to risk dozing off although he was so terribly tired, and even the coffee in his hands didn't do much against it. "But?"

"But his health information doesn't correspond with his cause of death," Chan muses. "Here it mentions that he passed on from heart failure, but there's absolutely no record of medical complications in his past. In other words, nothing that could've led to heart failure, even in the short term. He was perfectly healthy."

Seungmin's frown deepens. "So what you're trying to say is…?"

"This data is false. I'm not sure how much of it is false, but it's hiding something." Chan meets Seungmin's eyes. "Minnie, I understand that you're worried about Jisung and Felix, but if Minho doesn't have any ulterior motive, then maybe it's best to just leave it be."

"But—"

"Seungmin, you can only interfere with these kinds of things to some extent until it becomes dangerous. There must be a reason why it's like this, and honestly, I don't want you getting wrapped up in anything risky."

"But is it really worth the gamble?" Seungmin argues. "Hyung, this is weird. Minho is dead and for some reason in their home. His profile is either lies or forged. Doesn't it bother you at all? What if something happens to those two because of this?"

The blonde breathes out a resigned sigh. "They're capable of taking care of themselves, Minnie. It's not worth diving neck-deep into something like this."

"But hyung—"

"Seungmin please." Chan lifts himself to his feet and reaches out, taking Seungmin's chin and tilting his head upwards to meet his eyes. "I know what I'm talking about, you know I do. If there's really something wrong here, I can't risk you getting hurt because of it. Please just leave it alone." He leans down and plants a soft kiss against the brunette's fringe. "I should get going now. Don't do anything rash, all right?"

Seungmin's brow creases in distress as he watches Chan leave the cafe, his coffee only half-finished in his cup. Seungmin shakes his head. "Of all people, I don't want you telling me that," he murmurs under his breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confusion factor probably upped itself by now but that's okay because it'll make more sense and get more confusing later!  
> Thank you for reading!  
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you in the next <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers and welcome to the next chapter!  
> Thank you all kindly for your comments and kudos, it's small things like that that are really encouraging <3  
> Before we start this chapter, for anyone who reads these notes, there will be a small, slightly graphic scene at the very beginning of the chapter. For anyone who is sensitive to blood (like Chan ;D) I would recommend skipping directly to the first "Minho!", but if not, then carry on ^^  
> That's all for now, so without further ado, let's go

Minho cleaves out a path gracelessly with his bare hands, branches scraping through his skin, clothes tearing in the strangulating embrace of the foliage, darkness burning his eyes as he hurries the young ones through the forest, wincing as one trips over a gnarled root and tumbles into the undergrowth with a shriek. He swallows thickly and turns to face the others, holding his finger to his lips. "You," he whispers urgently, gesturing at the one who seemed to be the oldest, with baby fat still clinging to his cheeks and a terrified glint in his eyes. "Take care of the others."

He quickly pushes through the shrubbery and retrieves the little girl that had fallen just short of a bramble thicket. He holds her close to his chest, able to feel her tiny heart pounding against his chest. "Shhh," he murmurs quietly, arms moving of their own accord to rock her gently as she begins to wail. "It's okay, it'll be okay," he assures, making his best attempt at hiding the slight tremor in his voice. 

As he bounds back to the others, he squints in the darkness, making out the heads of the children. Three...five...seven… He heaves out a relieved sigh. They were all there. Shifting until his back makes contact with the tree trunk behind him, he offers them an exhausted smile. "Let's take a break," he tells them softly. "And then let's move again. It's not safe here." He glances down at the little girl in his arms, already sound asleep. 

No arguments are brought up, to which relief washes over him. He tilts his head back to watch the canopy of leaves eat away at the star-sprinkled sky as wind rustled them. The dim moonlight dappled the uneven, black earth, and as a particularly bitter breeze breathes over them, Minho gathers the silent, trembling children to himself, as though he, with his wiry frame and limited strength could protect them. 

Only he couldn't. He couldn't, he made a mistake. He hadn't moved fast enough, he hadn't been inconspicuous enough, he had failed. And now they were all going to suffer the consequences.

His eyes widen, stinging with tears of rage as the ugliest of faces contorts into a leer. Writhing like a fish out of water, in attempts to break free from his restraints that chafe at his wrists and ankles, he falls onto the rough ground with a dull thump. His throat opens in a scream of indignation and then fear. His eyes widen and he trembles as something warm, thick, _red_ , splatters against his face and he resists the urge to vomit then and there at the heavy, metallic scent crawls into his nostrils. His heart tightens within his chest. 

"No— no! Stop it! Stop— please!" His voice leaves his throat choked, strangled, as his pleas are overridden by shrieks, hellish screeches, tortured, animalistic cries. Minho's eyes shut tightly as he feels the warmth flow to his clothes, staining them, staining him, seeping into the wooden floor, seeping into his bones. He opens his eyes only to meet frightened, almond ones. They soon darken and a small hand reaches out to him, drenched in a pool of crimson, gurgled cries of help silenced as the little girl chokes on her own blood drowning her own voice in horrifying retches until her tiny body stills. He sobs, nearly retching himself as his throat tightens. "Stop— stop it! Please— they're only children, please—!"

His eyes flicker around the room that had become a slaughterhouse, and he meets terrified olive eyes. He gathers the breath that hasn't been choked in his lungs. "Run! Run!" He screams. "Run!" But the boy doesn't move, trembling like an autumn leaf in a whirlwind of blood. Minho pulls himself upright with the fragments of strength remaining in his battered body and meets the eyes of the squirrel-cheeked boy. "Run, get out of here!" He rasps. "Please!"

His eyes widen and he screams as the blade, crusted in layers of blood, cuts the child down before he even has the chance to move, the life draining from his eyes just as quickly as the blood that drained from the vicious laceration in his neck. Minho screams, his voice hoarse, until he can't formulate sound as blood splatters against his frame again, still warm against the gooseflesh on his skin. He howls like a wounded animal tears stinging his eyes and blinding him. He barely sees the shadow-enshrouded face turning towards him, weapon brandished and—

"Minho!" 

Minho's voice catches in his throat as he finds himself jostled sharply. The ties around his wrists, knees, and ankles dissipate. 

"Minho, wake up—"

Opening his eyes blearily, Minho stares blankly at olive ones staring back down at him, equally as blank. 

"Hey, stop screaming, you'll scare off all the birds."

Almost feverishly, Minho’s eyes trail down Jisung’s face, round eyes, small mouth, straight nose, chipmunk-like cheeks. Sitting up abruptly, he traces Jisung’s features with a pale, trembling hand, his gaze still somewhat unfocussed. “Y-you’re alive,” he stammers hoarsely.

Jisung recoils from his touch and glares at him. “What— what are you doing?”

Minho’s gaze clears and, one he realizes his current position, he retracts his hand with a delicate frown. He sighs. “You’re back early,” he mumbles, covering an ear with his hand as he swings his legs off of the couch. Glancing down, he cracks his neck. “Must’ve fallen asleep…” 

“You haven’t had a nightmare in a while,” Jisung states, a little stiffly. “You good?”

Minho laughs humourlessly in response. “What’s this? You’re worried about me? Let me check outside for flying pigs,” he drawls, rubbing at his eyes and then reaching up to fix his hair. He meets Jisung’s eyes again, expecting to see them rolling out of his head, or whatever Jisung’s natural response to him was in general, but when he sees something that could almost be called genuine worry, he sighs. 

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he states simply, brushing the beads of sweat from his brow and rising to his feet. He stares down at Jisung. “Have you eaten yet? Be careful around the stairway, I haven’t cleaned there yet.” He brushes his fringe back with a disappointed sigh. “I must have taken a break and just fallen asleep.” He strides off before Jisung has the time to get a word in edgewise. 

“Hey—” 

Minho pauses and glances back at Jisung silently. He sees the man’s lips move, but the words don’t register in his mind, which is too focussed on how the man had matured. Instead of a head of raven hair, his locks had been dyed a shade of rich brown. His features were more defined now, finer. His body and mind seemed healthy too, an immense relief to Minho. He had lost most of his baby fat, but his cheeks still remained. Minho isn’t sure why he hadn’t recognized it in the first place; it was difficult to forget a face like Jisung’s. 

“Minho? Hey!” 

Jisung’s voice snaps him out of his recollections, and once his gaze focusses, the brunette sighs. “Seriously, are you even listening to me?”

“No, I was too busy deliberately ignoring you.”

“You were staring at my face.” 

Minho just shrugs in response and turns about-face to head for the kitchen again. “I said you should probably go out and take a breather,” Jisung calls after him. “I’m going to be working on something again, so you probably don’t want to be in here. Don’t worry about food, we can just get takeout or something.” 

“So you’re trying to tell me that after I’ve cleaned this area, you’re just going to mess it up again?”

“I’ll clean it afterwards if that makes you happy.” 

Minho glances back at him, a sliver of a mirthless smile creeping onto his lips. “I’ve got nothing to do out there. I’ll stay here and open a few windows.” 

Jisung shrugs and grabs an apron from the coat rack by the fireplace. “Do what you want, I guess.” 

Minho nods and scampers about, opening a few windows in case Jisung decided to use that godawful aerosol spray paint again. He grabs a book from the shelf (that he had arranged, mind you), and settles down comfortably on the couch. Flipping it open, he only pays half his attention to it as he watches Jisung run about gathering his materials and removing that tarp from the lump in the middle of the living room to reveal a formless mass of _something_ ; Minho couldn’t be paid to try to decipher what the mess of shapeless colour was.

He steals one of Jisung’s masks and pulls it over his face, his attention returning to the words in the book, strung into mindless sentences of insights that in reality were just another attempt on mankind’s part to derive some meaning from nothing and wow, Minho was feeling a dangerously sarcastic thought creeping into his mind. Ah well, couldn’t hurt.

It doesn’t take longer than a few minutes for Minho to completely zone out once again, staring blankly at the pages and listening to the scratching sounds from whatever Jisung was doing with that lump. In a strange kind of way, it was relaxing, to be doing absolutely nothing, yet still have enough to occupy his senses in his environment. 

Without realizing it, he ends up drifting off again, his arm falling and the book tumbling out of his grip and onto the hardwood floor. His breaths slow and his eyes lid over. 

Jisung glances up and pulls down his mask to reveal a slight frown. Setting down his carving knife, he pushes himself up and brushes down his clothes. Striding past the man, he pads upstairs before returning with a blanket. He drapes it over Minho’s frame and moves his arm back up as well so that he wouldn’t be stiff when he woke up. Jisung stares at the man’s sleeping face, half-obscured by that mask. It was easier to be decent to Minho when they weren’t talking to each other, he decides. There was just far too much room for one of them to talk out of turn.

His forehead creases as he wonders just what on earth Minho had been dreaming of to have him shrieking like he had his tongue torn out of his mouth. _“You’re alive,”_ he had said when Jisung had woken him up. What was that supposed to mean? Jisung shakes his head slowly and strides away from Minho, sitting down on the floor, blanketed in a layer of polychrome shavings. He retrieves his carving knife and taps at its edge with the pad of his finger. Cracking his neck, he leans forward and brings the knife to the sculpture that was already beginning to take its shape.

When Jisung finally decides to take a break, he throws the tarp onto the sculpture to cover it and then brushes the sweat from his fringe with the back of his wrist. He leans back against the floor and closes his eyes only to sit stock-upright when the sound of keys and the creaking of the door hinges reach his ears. He turns to see Felix step inside, Changbin following in his wake, and when the blonde opens his mouth to give a doubtless overenthusiastic greeting, Jisung raises a finger to his lips and jerks a thumb back at Minho.

Felix bites back a grin at that and glances over at Changbin, who just watches the three of them with a cocked eyebrow (he had touched up the cross-shaped slit and even added a piercing for good measure) and an amused glint in his eyes. Felix strides into the house after pulling off his shoes and stepping into slippers that really didn’t go well with his skinny jeans, but oh well.

“Hey, Sung, you don’t look busy, you want to head to the studio tonight?” Changbin asks, his voice low so as not to wake up Minho. “Chan hyung said you’d be busy but if you really don’t have anything to do—”

Jisung glances back at Minho, and then eyes Felix who just nods at him before rushing upstairs. He purses his lips, his eyes falling on Minho once more. Well, he had intended on spending the evening trying to better his relations with the man, but if Minho was just going to sleep, then there wasn’t much that could be done. Why he seemed to listless as of late was beyond Jisung, but Changbin did bring to his attention the valid point that he was killing time.

“You know what, you’re right,” Jisung finally agrees, pulling off his apron and grabbing a bomber jacket that looked suspiciously like it belonged to Felix off of the coat rack. He grins at Changbin. “I think the creative juices could use a bit of flowing right now.” 

“Wh— okay. You know what? Sure. That’s fine.” 

Jisung hops into the front passenger’s seat of Changbin’s car and buckles himself in. He glances over at the man as he makes a turn to head out down the dirt road. “You’re looking trussed up, what’s the occasion?”

“The way you say it makes it sound like I’m a turkey or something.” 

“Same size.” 

“Okay, shut up, you’re not that much taller than me. We’re basically the same height, but you’re smaller,” Changbin huffs. “At least have something going for you if you're gonna bring up my height, Jisung."

At that, the brunette pouts. "I was just trying to compliment your look, why am I being bullied?"

"Because you called me short," Changbin responds with equal indignance. 

"Well we're both short. Happy now?"

Changbin grins at that. "To be honest, not really."

"Yeah, me neither."

They fall into a comfortable silence as Changbin extricates them from the thick of the forest and out to the freeway. Jisung leans his head against the window and side-glances at Changbin. “Are you two working on something important? Is that why you insisted on me coming along? I mean, I got the okay to stay back from Chan hyung.”

A shrug is the initial response, Changbin’s eyes too fixated on the road to spare Jisung a glance. “Not really. It’s just like losing half a braincell from the two that we share between the three of us.”

“Hey, I at least have one!” Jisung retorts indignantly. 

Changbin shakes his head. “No, that’s Chan’s.” He switches on the wipers as droplets of rain sprinkle against the windshield. “And even that’s probably dying from sleep deprivation anyway.” It doesn’t take long for the drizzle to advance into a flat-out downpour soon after, and Jisung groans.

“Should’ve brought an umbrella...you got one handy?” he asks, 

“There’s some at the studio. You can take one with you, but can you actually return it this time?" 

"I'm forgetful, you know that!" Jisung huffs. "If I don't return it then you can come grab it whenever." He stretches. "Is Chan hyung waiting for us in the studio or…?"

"He had to go print some things a while back. He let me know that he might be a little late for our meetup."

"Knowing him, he's probably already there," Jisung remarks and Changbin nods in agreement. It doesn't take them too long to re-enter the campus and Jisung eyes the sky, which was a rather unfriendly shade of grey at this point. He could only hope that the rain didn't get any worse although the pounding of droplets was already percussive enough to drain his hopes.

Jisung burrows himself into his (Felix's) jacket and silently cursing himself for not having the foresight to wear something that had a hood. He stares balefully up at the sky before reluctantly peeling himself off of the seat and hopping outside, bolting towards the nearest shade, but still saturating himself in the rain. 

Changbin doesn't fair much better, his hair plastering over his eyes and needing to be slicked back to avoid walking into any walls, but Jisung morosely messes with his own hair until it sticks out in different directions as though he was a freshly electrocuted cartoon character. Changbin steals a glance at him as they retreat into the shelter of the Faculty of Arts and snorts in amusement, pulling out his phone to snap a picture of the sulking brunette.

"Shut up," Jisung huffs.

"I didn't say anything though?"

"But you're thinking too loud."

"So demanding," Changbin retorts with a grin nonetheless. 

The pair, still drenched, skulk off towards the studio, and Jisung happily throws himself onto the couch when Changbin opens the door for them. He yelps when his vision suddenly goes dark and something dense falls over him. He grapples with the towel for a bit and then pulls it off his head to find Chan, clad in a tank top because only he would be crazy enough to wear a tank top in this weather, grinning down at him. Jisung's eyes naturally catch the sleeve of ink that trails down his arm, inadvertently admiring the intricate tattoos. "Hey, didn't expect to see you here."

"Tryna suffocate me?!" Jisung accuses, and the blonde only shrugs, still smiling. Jisung sits up nonetheless, grateful for the towel and central heating as he dries himself off. On second glance, Jisung sees the drenched hoodie hanging out to dry, and maybe Chan was a functional human being after all. Changbin too has a towel wrapped around himself and looked rather snug. The sudden urge to maybe hug him comes over Jisung, but he foregoes it in favour of drying himself off because really, they'd both end up complaining if a soggy Jisung latched onto Changbin.

Propping himself upright on the couch, Jisung glances over at Chan, who was currently preoccupied with fooling about with a midi synthesizer. "I was planning on trying to be a decent person around Minho because Jeongin and Seungmin were both bothering me about it, but then he fell asleep when Changbin came over to drop Lixie off so I had nothing to do."

He entirely misses how Chan tenses slightly as he speaks, and the man turns to face him again. "Oh, really?"

"It's really amusing to actually see you put that much effort into it, to be honest," Changbin breaks in, ruffling out his hair. The fluffy undercut made Jisung want to hug him again. Maybe he was just in one of those clingy moods. This time he does act on his instinct, grabbing the man by the waist from behind and pulling him down onto his lap as he sits down again.

"Don't sass me," Jisung huffs. 

"Say, it's pretty early, he's asleep already?" Chan remarks offhandedly, breaking in before the two could start bickering again, and Changbin glances over at the blonde, his brow furrowed slightly. 

Jisung, again oblivious, nods. "Yeah. He fell asleep earlier and had a nightmare."

"Again?" Chan pauses fully this time, shutting his laptop and turning to face Jisung. 

The brunette nods. "Yeah. Woke up saying weird things. He looked at me and said I'm alive. Maybe I died in his nightmare or something."

Chan's brow furrows. "...all right." He shrugs. "Anyway, I have a composition that's almost ready for lyricizing. I think you two might like it. Tell me what you think."

* * *

"—sung, wake up."

Jisung whines and rolls over, only to fall onto a cold, wooden floor. The sudden sensation makes him shoot upright with a yelp, goosebumps lining his skin. His hands naturally come up to grip the blanket that had fallen about his shoulders and he stares up at Chan, who eyes him in amusement. He takes in his surroundings, his eyes widening as he realizes he's very much not at home. 

"Eh? What are we still doing here?" He asks, scrambling to his feet and settling down on the studio's couch again, wrapped up snugly in the fleece blanket. 

Chan offers him a coffee, which he accepts, sighing at the warmth that seeps into his body through his hands. "You fell asleep last night and we really didn't want to wake you up. Well, Changbin did, but I told him to just leave you. I brought in the blanket because you looked cold."

"Gee, thanks, mum," Jisung responds with pursed lips. 

The blonde rolls his eyes. "Remind me to not do nice things for you any more."

Jisung grins. "Sure thing, hyung. Save that money for your university debt, you know." He laughs at the appalled stare he receives in turn for his troubles and takes a draught of his coffee, which, fortunately, was cooled enough to not burn his tongue to a crisp. He idly pulls his phone from his back pocket (amazed that it had not fallen out), only for his eyes to widen. He taps the number to call it back.

"What the hell, Lix, sixteen missed calls?"

"You mean sixteen _missed_ calls! I had to convince Minho that you were fine like a million times and he was still freaking out! Why weren't you picking up?"

Jisung doesn't know what to even take from that statement first. He frowns. "Lixie, you know it isn't that strange for me to be out all night with Chan hyung and Binnie. I had my phone on silent! And I may or may not have fallen asleep..."

Felix sighs. "When are you coming home?"

Jisung glances over at Chan. "Not sure. Maybe I'll stay out for a bit. How's Minho now?"

"Well he was busy agonizing over you for most of the night so now he's probably asleep." Jisung's brow furrows and he nods. "All right. How about you? How're you doing?"

"Well I mean I cleaned up the mess you left, had cereal for breakfast and I'm taking the car to head out to the dance studio. You don't have classes today, right?"

Jisung shakes his head, momentarily forgetting that Felix couldn't see it. "Nope. I might just go crash at Chan's room for a bit and hang out on campus. I'll go back home with you or something."

"Okay, sounds like a plan." 

Jisung chuckles. "See you soon, Lix. Oh, and tell Minho I'm fine if he wakes up before you leave."

"Will do. Love you, Sung."

"Love you too, Lixie."

Jisung hangs up and glances up at Chan. “Soooo….” 

“I don’t trust you in my room any more, Jisung.” 

“Please?” Jisung even tries puppy-dog eyes for extra effect, but unfortunately, Chan remains impervious, likely from exposure. 

“...fine.” Or not. 

Jisung grins and hops up, nearly spilling his coffee over Chan’s blanket, did not the blonde grab said blanket and whip it off his shoulders, leaving him cold and to fend for himself. “I was going to whine about you stealing the blanket, but since you’re letting me wash up in your room, I’ll let it pass.” 

Chan rolls his eyes. “Entitled brat.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly as he recalls someone else having called him the same thing, and although the intention behind this round of name-calling was different, it catches him off guard. Chan seems to notice and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Woojin should be there, so I figure he can keep you under control,” he hums. “Now come on, let’s get out of here before I get apprehended for being here after curfew.” 

Jisung’s lips quirk into a grin. “Wow, Chan hyung would turn into a criminal for me, I’m honoured,” he chuckles. The blonde only smiles slightly at his remark before whirling around, blanket folded and tucked into the crook of his arm. 

“Let’s go.” 

Jisung follows him and sits with his cheek squished against the window of the SUV, staring up at the pristine, blue sky as though it had wronged him. His eyes shift over to Chan and run over his pale face and dark eyebags. “Hey, hyung, did you not sleep again?”

The man blinks owlishly and turns to meet Jisung’s eyes. “You all act like I never sleep,” he huffs. “The eyebags are natural, I get enough sleep, you know?”

“Seungmin would beg to differ.” 

“Seungmin would differ with anything I say.” 

“Good point.” 

Chan smiles and turns back to the road. “Don’t worry, I did work a little longer after Changbin left and I got you that blanket, but I slept for a bit too.” He sighs. “So what exactly happened on that call with Felix anyway?”

Jisung raps his fingernails against the glass and sits upright. “Well, apparently because I didn’t come home last night, Minho started freaking out and somehow used Lix’s cell to try call me sixteen times.”

"I thought you two weren't on good terms..?"

"We aren't!" Jisung yelps almost immediately. "He's being overbearing again, it's weird!" He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. "We've already established that we don't even like each other, why is it his business what I'd be doing out at night?"

Chan shrugs. "Maybe because he's worried about you. You don't have to be perfectly friendly with each other to worry about each other." He parks in front of the dormitory and glances over at Jisung. "Are you just going to wash up or are you staying in for a bit?"

“I’ll stay in for a bit, I think. You can go ahead, you have a shadow day at the hospital, right? I’ll call Lix or Binnie over if I need to head back home.” Jisung blows him a kiss. “Thanks for the coffee and ride, hyung,” he chirps, emerging from the car, catching the key that was thrown at him. 

“Never do that again, please,” Chan remarks dryly before driving off, leaving Jisung to head into the dorms. He steps into the elevator and leans against the wall while heading up to the floor where Chan and Woojin shared their room. The two had been roommates with each other since their first year studying medicine and psychology respectively and somehow tolerated each other enough to stay together. Jisung chuckles. 

He steps out onto the floor and heads over to the room, using Chan's key to unlock it. He steps into the area just in time to see Hyunjin’s head pop from a door, the man slipping a sock over the doorknob. Jisung freezes in the doorway as Hyunjin disappears within the room. He debates on whether he should just step out of the area until Woojin emerges from the room and deliberately removes the sock from the door, glancing over at Jisung and offering him an apologetic glance.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s happening,” the man informs, and Jisung slumps against the door in relief. 

Woojin strides out of the room and raises an eyebrow at him. “You look like you slept on brambles, are you all right?”

“Ah, Woojin hyung,” Jisung sighs. “The only person I know who would make a comparison like that.” He messes with his hair, somehow managing to intensify its messiness. “Chan hyung is letting me borrow the shower. And everything else, but I’m just feeling like a really good shower right now. So...not to stop you and Jin from doing anything, but…”

“We don’t plan on it,” Woojin responds firmly, barely fazed. “Go ahead and take your shower.” 

* * *

“So...why are you all following me again?” Jisung asks, glancing back from the front passenger’s seat of Chan’s SUV to where Seungmin, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Woojin are all crammed into the back. Woojin just shrugs and offers him an equally lost look while Seungmin crosses his arms and offers a shrug as well, although his was considerably more aggressive than Woojin’s, or so Jisung notes.

Changbin just fiddles with the straps of his hoodie with a shrug of his own. Jisung is beginning to wonder if that’s how he tones his shoulders. “Minho was asleep last time, I didn’t get to chat with him. Might as well this time.”

“I want to see you arguing with him,” Hyunjin chirps, sounding far too happy about his reason. Jisung glares at him, only to receive a close-lipped and close-eyed smile in response. Hyunjin’s features relax to reveal his olive eyes, glinting with something that irritated Jisung, and he wonders if it’s because he had interrupted him and Woojin in the morning. Hyunjin _would_ be petty enough to hold that grudge…

“You guys really have to stop inviting yourselves over,” he huffs.

“ _Oh_ , _goodness_ , _would you look at who’s talking!_ ” Hyunjin stresses sarcastically, and Jisung glares at him again. 

“Look, I’m sorry I cockblocked you,” Jisung huffs.

Chan clears his throat loudly and glances at the back from the rearview mirror. “All right, that’s enough,” he calls, silencing them. Seungmin breathes out a sigh of relief and Woojin pats Hyunjin’s hand silently, an amused glint in his eyes. 

It’s silent again until Jisung glances back at them from the rearview mirror and tilts his head. “By the way, where’s Jeongin? If all of you are tagging along, I’d at least expect him to be here too.” 

“He had an appointment at the hospital yesterday and then he said his parents called him home. Maybe he’s still there,” Seungmin responds. “He hasn’t been back at the dorms all day, so that’s my assumption.” The brunette glances past Jisung to the car that they followed, driven by Felix. “Either that, or he’s with Lix.” 

“Which he isn’t,” Jisung responds dryly. “You’re not wearing contacts, Min?”

“I have my glasses with me,” the brunette replies, turning to look out the window. “I just didn’t think it was necessary.” He breathes out a sigh. “Wearing contacts and glasses is annoying if you have to do it all the time, you know.” He closes his eyes. Jisung is suddenly made aware of how exhausted the brunette looks, and he’s about to bring it up, but he’s beat to the chase.

“Did you sleep?” Hyunjin suddenly interjects, his eyes zoning in on Seungmin. 

The brunette glances back at him and smiles. “Of course I did, Hyunjin.” It was more abrupt than Jisung was used to hearing from him when he spoke to Hyunjin, raising Jisung’s suspicions, but when his gaze naturally shifts to Chan to see his reaction, he finds the blonde not so much as sparing a glance back although he did seem concerned.

Jisung lets the matter rest, and so does everyone else. Seungmin ends up dozing off in the car, and no one has the heart to wake him up, although Jisung does debate on pulling a marker out of his bag to scribble on Seungmin’s face. Showing a great deal of self-restraint, he doesn’t.

When they finally roll to a stop in front of the cabin, the windows reflecting the soft light that emits from inside, Changbin reaches over to gently shake the brunette awake. In a surprisingly quiet exhibition, they leave the SUV, Jisung immediately darting over to Felix and throwing himself on top of him because he knows that Felix will catch him anyway and he hasn’t seen him for practically the whole day, something that neither of them experienced very often since they were virtually inseparable.

“Hey, Lixie,” Jisung greets with a chirp, smacking a kiss on the top of his head before grinning at him. Felix’s face contorts into mock disgust and he pushes him away.

“Get off me, Sung,” he retorts.

A pout presses onto Jisung’s face and he huffs. “Wow, I see how it is, I guess blood isn’t that much thicker than water,” he huffs. 

“Blood is water,” Felix responds candidly, grinning widely.

“Well the plasma in the blood is about ninety percent water and plasma makes up over fifty percent of total blood volume—” Chan interjects.

“Metonymy, philosophy, and anatomy aside, don’t you think we should head inside?” Woojin interjects, earning another relieved sigh from Seungmin.

“I am,” Felix responds before laughing at himself and heading for the door.

Jisung groans. “Shut up, please.” 

“You love me, Sungie.” Felix opens the door and strides in, Jisung following in close suit. 

Jisung barely registers the pounding of footsteps before his shoulders are grabbed and his back makes harsh contact with the wall. A surprised yelp leaves his lips and he winces from the shock that starts at his back and reverberates through his body because _ow,_ that hit a lot harder than expected. Wide-eyed, he stares at Minho, who is very clearly glaring at him, eyes somewhat glassy and blazing. Jisung's lips part, his blood rushing in his ears from the sudden kick of adrenaline. "M-Minho—?"

"Where the _hell_ were you?!" The man grates, his voice slightly higher pitched than normal and rather hoarse. His fingers dig into Jisung's shoulders and Jisung winces again, more so from how unexpected this was than from the action actually being painful by any means. "Last night and today too— what do you think you're doing?!"

Jisung just gapes at him, lips parted but no words eliciting from his throat. Why none of the others were making any move to stop this was beyond Jisung's current frame of thought at the moment, with his senses overridden by adrenaline, his heart pounding and telling him to get himself out of here, his ears deafened and his eyes just meeting Minho's and— was that worry? He frowns and reaches up to grip Minho's slender wrists, his fingers clamping firmly around them.

He lowers the man's hands from his shoulders and stares at him. "I was out producing with Chan hyung and Changbin," he states. "Like Felix probably told you. So stop overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Minho echoes his eyes widening, and Jisung swears he sees traces of fear in them, which makes absolutely no sense to him, since there was no reason for Minho to be afraid of him or for him...apart from the times where he had threatened him with blunt objects, but Jisung had assumed they were both past that by now. "You think I'm overreacting? Why didn't you tell me yourself?!"

When Minho raises his voice, Jisung winces again. "You were sleeping and you looked tired so I didn't wake you up! I was trying to be nice to you and this is what I get? Why do you even care?" He retorts, his own voice rising. 

"All right, that's enough, break it up," Hyunjin calls, tugging Jisung away and pushing him past Minho with a smile. "Sorry about that, let's let his head cool for a bit, we'll be back." Jisung doesn't waste his energy turning his frustrations on Hyunjin, instead allowing the man to herd him upstairs. 

Minho watches the pair retreat and takes his fingers through his hair before turning to face the rest of them, staring at him silently, expressions varying. He averts his eyes. "...I'm sorry about that, I just lost my head," he apologizes, sounding genuinely remorseful. 

"I don't think we should be the ones you should be apologizing to," Seungmin states simply, maybe even a little sharply, his eyes trained on Minho. Chan casts a warning glance at Seungmin, caught by both Changbin and Woojin, but somehow missed entirely by the man himself. The older of the pair glances upstairs again and nods slowly. 

"You're right," he agrees, turning to stride upstairs. "I should probably go and apologize to him—"

"No," Seungmin interjects before Minho can move an inch. 

"Seung—"

The brunette steps past Chan, approaching Minho with a neutral look pressed onto his features, as though he was calculating something in his head. He purses his lips and begins to stride up the staircase, gesturing for Minho to follow him. "I need to talk to you," he states, the tone of his voice mellowing out slightly. 

"Seungmin—" Chan calls again, his voice hardening slightly and his eyes darkening. Seungmin turns around and meets Chan's eyes flatly, silently daring him to finish his words. After a few moments, Chan breathes out a resigned sigh and shakes his head. 

Minho looks from one to the other in concern, but in the end opts to follow Seungmin upstairs. The man immediately heads for his room and he raises an eyebrow at that. "...how did you know that was my room?" He questions. "I don't remember telling you."

"I helped Jisung and Felix move into this place, I know where their rooms are," Seungmin responds almost brusquely before standing in front of the door and waiting. 

"Aren't you going to go in...?"

"You haven't given me permission to go in."

"Well aren't we a gentleman," Minho sighs, striding forward and opening the door, inviting Seungmin inside. Once in, he shuts the door behind them and stands in front of it, barring the way out. His brow furrows. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"First off, about your little outburst, actually," Seungmin states, settling himself down on the chair by Minho's desk. "What's behind that? Jisung is an adult and he's responsible for himself and all the stupid decisions he makes. You barely know him, why are you so concerned about something as normal as a grown man whom you have nothing to do with being out late at night?"

Minho's eyes widen at his words and his fingers curl into fists. Seungmin maintains his calm, observing the man's gestures coolly. "I— I don't know—"

"That's a lie, Lee Minho."

Minho stiffens, his eyes widening further. Seungmin lifts himself to his feet and approaches the brunette again, lifting a finger and jabbing it towards him. Minhos hand shoots up and grips Seungmin's wrist before the young man's appendage can touch him, his eyes dark and his posture on heavy alert. "How the hell do you know my—"

"Name? It came along with an interesting piece of information. I know you're dead, Minho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens~  
> Thank you all kindly for taking the time to read this chapter, and I'll see you all next time! ^^


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers, and welcome back ^^  
> Thank you again for the continued support and I hope that this fic can become something worth your time  
> There's not much else to say right now, so without further ado, let's go

As silence falls on all of them with the absence of Jisung, Hyunjin, Minho, and Seungmin, Chan immediately straightens up and turns to eyeball the rest of them, finding Felix looking rather worried, Changbin with his own degree of concern and Woojin— well, Woojin just seemed normal. Chan would never understand how he does it. He nods slowly. 

"All right. They'll be fine. Sure, they're probably angry, but it'll get resolved...eventually…"

"Thanks, hyung. That was very...convincing," Changbin remarks with a sigh, glancing at the stairs. 

"I tried," Chan defends before shaking his head and shifting his gaze to Woojin. "Hey, Jin, can you head upstairs and make sure that they don't go for each other's throats? I'll go see if there's anything salvageable in the kitchen." He sighs. "Having something in their stomachs will probably dampen the will to fight."

"I don't think Hyunjin will be too happy with that sentiment, but it's valid," Woojin responds pleasantly.

Chan chuckles and trails his fingers through his hair, his brow furrowing. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Jin."

"That...that sounds like it has the potential to be terrifying and I don't even know why," Changbin sighs, already stepping towards the kitchen. "I'll help you out, Chan hyung."

"Me too," Felix suddenly adds, looking dazed, and Chan shakes his head at the both of them. 

"No, no both of you go sit down," he insists, shifting to practically drag the both of them to the couch and sit them down. It would've been intimidating, how he could easily pull if not  _ carry _ their combined weight to the couch with ease, but it wasn't because he was Chan. 

"But—" Felix begins to protest. Chan strides purposefully towards the bookshelf and grabs a random work from it, tossing it towards the blonde. Reflexively, Felix catches the book, only to grimace at it when he sees 'Complete Works of Salvador Dali' printed on its cover. 

"Occupy yourself with something else, Lix, I'll be fine." 

"Yeah, you know that none of us trust you with that statement, right?" Changbin points out.

"Irrelevant, overruled, sit down and take a break!" Chan commands, motioning sharply with his finger for them to remain seated before stalking off into the kitchen. Changbin blinks owlishly. 

"Shouldn't you be the one taking a break though? You've been running around the hospital for the whole day, haven't you..?"

"Let him be," Woojin calls simply, drawing the attention of the two, constrained to the couch, to himself. He smiles. "If he's stressed, he likes to de-stress by doing other tasks that require concentration. Making music, exercising, cooking… you get the point. If you let him 'relax', he'll end up thinking too much and stress himself out more."

"I'll have to take your word for it, hyung. He just seems perpetually stressed sometimes." Changbin crosses his arms over his chest, lip ring pulled between his teeth. 

Woojin just chuckles and makes his way upstairs, he initially heads to the end of the hall where Jisung's room is located. He doesn't even need to approach it closely before he hears the vociferous exchange of almost unintelligible noise. There's some alarming crashing noises and subsequently a bout of cursing, but otherwise nothing seems too extraordinary about whatever could be going on behind those doors. He huffs amusedly, his eyes sliding away from the door. Those two would be fine. 

His footsteps lead him to the next room, which appears to be empty. He peeks past the crack of the barely-open door and figures from the abundance of stuffed animals and lack of canvases or bicycle spokes or the infamous crowbar that Felix never ceased to curse with every fibre of his being, that the room must be Felix's. He passes by it silently after pulling it shut. 

That left one room left. Woojin approaches the last door quietly, muting his footsteps as well as he could since he was well aware that Seungmin was naturally perceptive, and while Minho was somewhat of a wildcard, Woojin wasn't about to take chances. His eyes narrow slightly as he listens, finding no gaps in the door that could allow him a glimpse into what was going on.

"—I know you're dead, Minho."

Woojin's eyes widen slightly, his body naturally stiffening at the unnatural statement spoken in all seriousness by quite possibly the person Woojin would have least expected it from. He closes his eyes, his jaw tightening.

Behind the door, Minho laughs, the sound brittle and obviously unconvincing. "Dead? Is that a threat? Are you insane?” He cocks his head at Seungmin. “You’re making no sense.” 

“And  _ you _ ,” Seungmin stresses, “are lying to me. What are you hiding? Why are you here?” He twists his hand out of Minho’s grip only to clamp his fingers around the man’s wrist. “You know perfectly well what I mean.” His grip tightens slightly. “See? Even this is proof. You’re cold and you have no pulse. You are literally dead, Minho, do I have to spell it out or will you stop putting up a front?” 

Minho’s eyes narrow and he yanks his hand out of the younger’s grasp. “What do you want?”

“I should be asking you that,” Seungmin states. “I want to know what you’re doing here. I want to know why you’re so invested in Felix and Jisung. I want to know how you even exist right now.” He crosses his arms loosely over his chest. “If you’re planning on hurting either of them, I’ll find a way to exterminate you myself.” 

“Now that’s a threat,” Minho remarks dryly, his voice dripping sarcasm. “What if I told you that it’s none of your business? That’s not what you really want to know, right? You, pretending to be the great friend you are won’t be satisfied if I tell you that I have no intention of hurting Felix or Jisung, right?” His eyes widen challengingly. “Are you just looking for a fight?”

Seungmin pauses and meets his eyes before closing his own and breathing out a sigh to calm himself down. “I’m trying to be civil,” he admits honestly. “But this is beyond logic. I don’t understand why you’re here if you’re dead. Are you a spectre? Do spectres even exist? Are you even real?” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m not afraid of you, I’m afraid of your existence because it makes no sense to me. Of course I’m worried about Felix and Jisung, but more than anything, I want to understand what you are. Or what this is.”

Minho’s creased brow only furrows further and he hisses under his breath, looking almost like a cornered animal. Seungmin’s eyes widen as the man’s eyes take on an almost malicious glint, his lips curling back and his brandished finger pointed directly towards him. Unintentionally, he falters back and Minho lets out a bark of laughter.

“You’re the worst kind of human,” he hisses. “Power-hungry. You like knowing everything because it sets you a head above everyone else. And no one can stop you from taking knowledge for yourself that shouldn’t belong to you in the first place.” His eyes glaze over and Seungmin’s eyes widen.

“Minho—”

"Don't try to justify yourself to me," Minho grits out, his eyes shaking, and Seungmin immediately realizes that he must be quite close to panicking. He opens his mouth, but Minho just backs away from him. "I know you types."

The brunette whips around and pulls the door open, meeting Woojin’s eyes and staring daggers at him for a few moments before rushing down the stairs and out of the house. Felix and Changbin both jump from their seat on the couch, calling after him, but Changbin is the first to hurry outside after him.

Woojin stares at Minho’s rapidly retreating back before hurrying into his room where Seungmin is once again seated at the desk, pupils dilated, head resting in a hand that’s propped up on the desk. Woojin kneels down and eyes him quietly before taking his hand and squeezing it firmly. “What he said isn’t true,” he immediately states, more concerned with Seungmin taking the outburst hard than he was with the actual reason behind it all for the time being at least.

Seungmin stares down at Woojin and offers him a slightly shaken smile. “You noticed too, right?” he murmurs, as though someone else would be eavesdropping on them. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected Woojin to be there, but now that he has the time to consider it, he shouldn’t have expected a perfectly peaceful, straightforward confrontation anyway.

“Noticed…?” Woojin echoes slowly.

Releasing the older man’s hand, Seungmin sits up a little straighter, his gaze hardening. “I don’t think he’s going to do anything to Felix or Jisung like he said. I need to research more into this.” He leans over and whispers something into Woojin’s ear, causing the man to stiffen, his eyes widening and his features falling slack. 

“I think that I’ll have to start looking into this myself,” he states, and Seungmin stands up with a slow nod. 

“Chan hyung did warn me,” he admits. “But…”

“But you’ve got a nose for curiosity and a whole head and a half for getting into trouble?” Woojin remarks with a slight grin, lifting himself to his feet. 

Seungmin shakes his head. “I can’t prove him right without being the devil’s advocate.” He grins wryly. “That’s all.” 

Woojin shakes his head and chuckles, herding Seungmin out of the room. After casting a glance back inside, Seungmin reluctantly allows himself to be pushed out the door. He breathes out a resigned sigh. “I was hoping to look around for a bit. Jisung did say he found some things in Minho’s room—”

“And I think that, while Minho is actually inhabiting the place, you should probably take him into consideration as an equal individual before you decide to root through his belongings as a stranger,” Woojin responds candidly. “After all, that would be burglary, don’t you think?”

“Fair point,” Seungmin grudgingly admits, allowing himself to be guided back downstairs. 

* * *

“Minho! Hey! Wait!” Changbin trails the man through the forest, suddenly realizing that that was probably a stupid idea since it was rather dark out (who was he trying to fool, it was blatant nighttime), and he was a city child who wouldn’t know what to do in a forest if he suddenly happened to, for whatever conceivable reason, run into the thick of it. 

Fortunately for him, Minho suddenly freezes, stock still, in a small glade that could barely be classified as such. Although they couldn’t have spanned so much space in such a short period of time, Minho’s shoulders were heaving as though he had just run a marathon, and the breaths that elicited from the man’s lips were so hoarse he almost seemed to be groaning.

Changbin hurries past the trees and into the small clearing, only to have the man whip around and stare at him with wide eyes, reflecting the moonlight that streamed over the glade in gleaming fractals. Minho backs away from him, his arms raising as though he were attempting to shield something that didn’t exist with his body. “Stay away from me,” he growls. “Get out!” 

“Minho—”

“Stay away from me!” Minho’s voice rises to a cry, the veins in his neck protruding. 

Changbin stares at him silently for a few moments before raising his hands disarmingly. “Minho, it’s me. It’s Changbin,” he states. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but everything is fine now. Nothing is going to happen.” He sits down on the dew-crowned grass, realizing just how pleasant the coolness feels against his skin. He stares up at Minho. “I’m not going to do anything.” He shrugs. “I was just worried you’d get hurt or lost out here.” He chuckles. “Pretty dumb now that I think of it, since you probably know more about this area than I do.” 

Minho gazes at him distrustfully, and Changbin eyes him carefully before looking away from him and up at the sky. "It's nice out here. You don't get to see this kind of thing out in the city. All the light pollution, you know."

Minho says nothing in response. It worries Changbin, who had grown rather used to the man's saucy behaviour with him more often than not. He recognizes the pattern of Minho's current behaviour, but unlike Woojin, he isn't sure how to deal with it. It's somewhat cold outside and he rubs his arms absently, a good distance still separating him from the brunette. 

"It's all right," he says simply. "Take as much time as you need to calm down." He offers Minho a slight smile. "I'll wait for you." He figures that letting Minho gather himself at his own pace was better than trying to tell him to do anything, since Changbin himself wasn't entirely sure what to do in the first place. He gnaws at his liprings, concern darkening his eyes as he listens to the man's strained breaths.

When the brunette's breathing doesn't sound quite so haggard anymore, Changbin meets his eyes again. Minho looks away at that and Changbin relaxes. He huffs, a slight smirk creeping over his lips. "...so, remember what you said about me looking like an emo tumblr aesthetic?"

For some reason, that query seems to make Minho come to his senses, blinking in confusion and frowning. "What about it?"

"Well, you know there's no need for you to act like it," Changbin responds with a chuckle, glancing over at him again. "Hey, come sit and wind down. You really look like you could use it." He pats the grass next to him and, after a few moments' hesitation, Minho quietly moves towards him, his steps faltering slightly. 

Changbin's brow creases at that and he reaches out to touch Minho's forehead, only to cause the man to recoil, his pupils dilating. Changbin purses his lips and moves his hand back carefully. "I was wondering if you were sick," he states. "But you don't feel warm." He attributes that mainly to the fact that they're currently outdoors in the forest at nighttime and Minho is currently dressed in only a pair of pants and a striped button down. 

"I don't...get sick," Minho states after a few moments with a frown. 

"Oho, arrogant aren't we?" Changbin jokes, glad to see Minho's shoulders finally losing some of their tension. "Oh, I can't get sick because germs are peasants and don't dare approach me?" He ribs.

"I'll have you know that germs  _ are _ peasants," Minho responds huffily and Changbin snorts at that. Minho closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath before turning to face Changbin. "Sorry for...running out like that. And snapping at you. I shouldn't have gotten so out of control like that."

"Hey," Changbin hums, reaching out to grip the man's hand reassuringly. This time Minho doesn't pull away although he does tense ever so slightly. It doesn't go unnoticed by Changbin, who loosens his grip just enough for the brunette to tug his hand away if he so wished. "It's fine. We all have bad days. I get that you probably don't want to spill everything to someone you barely know, and that's fine." He offers the man another slight grin. "But if you ever change your mind, feel free to tell me whatever you want, I'll listen."

The corner of Minho's lips curves up slightly. "How noble of you."

"Hey, don't be sarcastic, I'm trying to be nice!" Changbin grumbles, mocking offence. 

Minho turns to stare at him. "So am I."

"Man, we suck at this."

Minho finally lets out a slight chuckle. "We do, don't we?"

Changbin nods and raises his eyes back to the star-studded sky once again. "Yeah, but I'd say it's mostly your fault." He chuckles and releases Minho's hand, only to have the man grasp his before he can move it away. He steals a glance at the brunette in surprise, only to find him with his eyes fixated at the sky, as though unaware of his gesture. 

"Keep telling yourself that, you emo tumblr aesthetic," Minho scoffs.

"I will, discount Christmas candy, I will."

Finally Minho turns to stare at him, the most offended of expressions on his face, and Changbin tries his utter best to hide his grin, resulting in a slightly constipated look. "I'm at least gourmet."

"You wish," Changbin retorts playfully, and they fall into a much more comfortable silence this time. In the minutes that follow, Minho makes no effort to break the silence, and when Changbin glances over at him for the umpteenth time, his gaze is still glued to the sky as though it was the most fascinating thing, and while the stars were pretty, Changbin finds the fact that Minho's gaze is eerily distant a little more concerning than the gaseous celestial bodies. 

He stands up, still letting Minho hold his hand since the brunette didn't seem to want to let go for whatever reason, and his movement causes the brunette to snap out of his reverie and turn to face him. "What are you doing?"

"Heading back to the house," he responds simply. "We've been out for a bit and I have a feeling that Chan hyung will probably send out a full-fledged search party after us if we don't go back." He tilts his head. "You feel up to coming with? Or do you want to stay here for a bit?"

"I'll come back," Minho decides after a moment, letting Changbin help him up. He dusts off his clothes and takes in the small glade. His gaze glosses over again and Changbin pokes him in the arm to take his attention back to himself. He pokes the shorter man back in turn. "Thanks for coming after me. I think."

"Have I ever told you how much I love your decisiveness?"

"Thanks, I get that a lot."

"No you don't."

"No I don't."

Changbin chuckles and pats his shoulder before looking around. "So...how do we get back?" 

Minho stares at him blankly. "By walking." When the younger shoots him a severely unimpressed stare, he grabs Changbin's hand again and begins to walk, tugging him along. "Seriously, do you see any other way to get back? Want to try swinging through the trees like Tarzan or something?" 

"Sounds fun," Changbin humours dryly, letting himself be dragged through the brush since he hadn't the slightest idea where they were headed so it was probably best to let Minho lead the way.

Soon enough, they break into the clearing, the glow of light from the house reaching Changbin's vision. His eyes crinkle. "Ah, sweet civilization."

"Aren't you the poet," Minho drawls sarcastically, tugging him to the door and reaching towards the handle, hesitating for the briefest of moments before grasping the handle and opening the door. "Bet that you're one of those kids who'll get picked off by natural selection without wifi."

"That cut deep. Do you really have that little faith in m—"

"Why the hell did you run off?!"

Minho's eyes widen as his collar is grabbed by a sun-kissed hand and he's pulled forward. His vision registers blazing, round eyes and he reaches up to pry Jisung's fingers off of his garment after overcoming his surprise. "That doesn't matter, does it? I'm back now."

Changbin hides a smile behind his fist as Jisung glares at the man. "Oh, so when  _ I'm  _ out at night that's not acceptable even if I'm in a perfectly safe place, but when  _ you _ run out into the goddamn  _ forest _ in the middle of the night, it's fine?"

Minho’s look of astonishment is soon replaced by a somewhat lopsided smile. “What’s this, Lee Jisung is worrying about me? Next thing I know, the sky is going to fall.” 

“Hey, Chicken Little? Is it really so hard to believe that I wouldn’t be worried about someone that could’ve gotten hurt out in the forest?” Jisung retorts, his ears reddening, whether from aggravation or embarrassment. 

“All right, you two, break it up,” Changbin calls, walking between them and herding Jisung back. “Can’t you just apologize like normal people and eat Chan hyung’s food or something?”

Jisung purses his lips. “I’ll apologize if he apologizes first. He started it.” 

Minho takes a moment to notice that Hyunjin is for some reason peering at them curiously from where he was hanging upside down from the balustrade of the staircase, Chan was being held back from interfering and presumably stopping them from harming themselves or each other by Seungmin, Felix is on his feet, gripping Jisung’s wrist and Woojin is eyeing the scene with a vague amusement in his eyes from the bottom steps of the staircase. He’s beginning to wonder if the man just finds this entire group an entertaining reality show.

Breathing out a sigh, he turns to meet Jisung’s narrowed gaze. “I’m sorry,” he states. “It was my fault. I was worried and I...overreacted.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen and then averts from Minho. “...you weren’t supposed to apologize,” he mumbles. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Maybe accept the apology?” Minho suggests. “That seems like a pretty good start to me.” 

Changbin snorts and Jisung raises his eyes back to Minho, hushing him. “Don’t ruin the moment!” 

“Too late,” Hyunjin chirps from the railing, pulling himself upright and nearly hitting his head against the ceiling. He crosses his arms loosely over his chest and pouts slightly. “That was pretty boring. You didn’t even actually fight.”

“Hyunjin, you really need to stop watching people go at each other’s throats for amusement,” Woojin sighs. 

“There won’t be any fighting here,” Chan suddenly calls out once Seungmin loosens his grip on his arm (although realistically he could have easily freed himself from the brunette’s grip). He raises an eyebrow. “I made kimchi spaghetti and I’m expecting it to be all finished.” 

“You say that like you won’t be the one finishing it all anyway,” Jisung retorts, “and also, since when did we have spaghetti?” 

Chan hushes him. “Don’t talk, just eat.” 

In a few minutes, Minho stands beside Chan, who watches over the remainder of them as they sit scattered around the floor, eating their food. “That was an effective way of shutting them up,” he remarks. 

Chan glances over at him and offers him a lax smile. “I had younger siblings. This is a little like that but on steroids…” he drifts off. “...don’t do steroids, by the way. It’ll mess you up.” He leans against the wall by the kitchen entrance. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Minho shakes his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll grab a drink if I feel like it. How about you, why aren’t you eating?” His eyes trail over Chan’s frame, taking the time to observe him. Bleached blonde hair, dark eyes, pale skin, full lips, broad shoulders, an athletic build… Minho’s gaze drops to the man’s neck and he raises an eyebrow at the lines of ink that peeked just past the collar of his black tee. His vision rises to Chan’s eyes again as the man chuckles. 

“I will,” the blonde replies, running his fingers through his curly hair. “Just giving them a chance to eat before I join in, you know?”

An amused smile creeps over the brunette’s lips. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” he muses. He moves his gaze away from Chan to settle on Jisung, seated at the table, laughing with his friends as though nothing was wrong with the world. If only it was that easy to be so free-spirited. “You’re all something else.”

They were all so strange, so...incompatible at their most superficial levels, but they still fit together, Minho could see that much from how Jisung would end up being mercilessly teased by Felix or Seungmin or Hyunjin, or even all three simultaneously, while Changbin and Woojin would watch them with amusement, one the paradigm of a solicitous, well-groomed spectator, the other an...emo tumblr aesthetic, as Minho would fondly refer to him as at this point.

Of course, there was Seungmin, who would spare him the briefest of glances every now and then as though he wouldn’t notice it, whom he had snapped at in his delirium. Minho wouldn’t blame the man for being suspicious of him, but he wouldn’t speak a word to Seungmin. He didn’t want to. It wasn’t a risk worth taking.

And then there was Jisung. Lee Jisung—no,  _ Han  _ Jisung, who was here for whatever reason. Minho shudders. It was as though he couldn’t escape that.  _ That _ , that clawed at his dreams and tormented him, as though his sins from the past were irremissible. Of course it wasn’t them, it was him, it had always been him, but—

“Hey, Minho, you’re doing that thing again.” Minho blinks, his vision focussing onto a freckled face and a hand waving in front of his eyes. He blinks owlishly and Felix smiles. “Welcome back to the real world, mate. You were zoning out again.”

Minho pushes Felix’s hand away with a huff and raises an eyebrow. “No, I was just watching the fairies,” he responds, and Felix stares at him blankly.

“...we’re a drug free household, Minho—”

“It was a joke.” 

“Oh.” 

Minho chuckles and reaches out to mess with Felix’s hair. “Don’t look at me like that. I swear I don’t do drugs.” 

“You can never be too sure,” Minho tenses as an arm is slung over his shoulder and turns to be met with Hyunjin’s sweetly smiling face that couldn’t possibly as innocent as it was played out to be. His lips part, but before he can speak a word, Jisung pops up before him and pokes his cheek. 

“First running away like that and now doing drugs? Jeez, Minho,” he huffs. 

Seungmin raises a camera (where had he gotten that from?) and snaps an image of them, a slight smirk on his face. Despite the underlying intentions that Minho could almost tangibly feel, this little charade felt...warming. As though he was part of this dysfunctional little friend group. He chuckles slightly and raises his hand to flick Jisung in the forehead.

“Hey! Why just me?!”

“Because you’re annoying.”

Hyunjin giggles and pokes his tongue out at Jisung. “He’s not wrong, Sung~” 

“Oh, up yours, Jin,” Jisung huffs.

Minho’s gaze softens at the comedic scene, and he glances over at Seungmin, who’s eyeing his camera with a frown and a creased brow. Minho looks away from him. He wouldn’t find anything strange there. His gaze falls on Felix again, grinning at Jisung who was currently trying to climb onto Hyunjin's shoulders. He chuckles and he taps the blonde's shoulder. 

"So, where's your cute boyfriend?" He questions, cocking an eyebrow at Felix, who only pushes his arm slightly.

"Jeongin had to head over to his parents' place after he had his doctor's appointment. I guess they want him over there for something since he's been there all day." Felix sighs and Minho ruffles his hair.

"There, there. We aren't in highschool anymore, we're fully functioning adults who can handle a few days without boyfriends." He grins. "I lied. We can never fully function."

"I know, Minho, I'm there," Felix gripes, earning himself amused laughter. 

"Well it's a pity he can't be here. Depending on how you look at it at least." He glances back at the scene of Jisung scribbling on Hyunjin's face with a watercolour pencil while Seungmin snapped photographs of them. Chan and was busy eating whatever the rest of them hadn't and Woojin currently wasn't anywhere in sight. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Felix chirps. 

Of course it had been a while since Minho had been socially active for long periods of time, but that didn't mean that he wishes he could be compensated (preferably monetarily) for this fraternal madness. He sighs and rests his chin on the freckled blonde's shoulder. "I'd hate to see you all drunk."

* * *

“You seem aggravated, is something wrong?”

Chan glances up from the papers on his desk, pencil flying from his fingers and hitting the side of the wastebin a few feet away. He frowns at the offending utensil and turns to look at Woojin, whose eyes haven’t even left the screen of his laptop. After a few moments of debating on whether he should white lie his way out of having to talk, he decides against it and chuckles ruefully. “Is it really that obvious?”

Finally, the man raises his head and tilts it back to eye him from the corner of his gaze. “Ever since we arrived at Jisung and Felix’s place you’d been acting strange. It's not fatigue, it's something else that's on your mind, isn't it?"

"Can I hide anything from you?" Chan asks with a chuckle, the rolled up sleeve of his tee unfurling and curtaining the tribal markings inked over his bicep. 

"I won't stop you from trying," Woojin responds good-naturedly. "You can trust me with anything that’s on your mind.” 

“I know,” Chan sighs. “I know.”

“And if it’s about Minho, I overheard Seungmin talking to him. I know some of what’s going on, so you don’t need to hide that from me either.” 

Chan turns back to his papers, mindlessly scanning over the phrases scribbled messily over them. “How did you know that I knew about that?” he asks, not bothering himself with hiding from Woojin because that was both exhausting and futile. 

He hears a soft chuckle from behind him and the clacking of keys as Woojin’s attention partially returns to whatever he’s doing on his laptop. “Because Seungmin was likely the one to discover it first, and it goes without saying that he would tell you. You probably had your own suspicions from the beginning, but you’d rather play it safe. He’s more impulsive than you are so of course he’d take initiative. And he trusts you the most.” 

“Trust, huh,” Chan hums, lowering the papers with a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s just wasting his time with me.”

“Come now, we both know that’s not true,” Woojin interjects gently. The tapping noises behind Chan silence and the creaking of the bed announces that the older of the pair had gotten up. Chan tilts his head back to stare up at Woojin’s sharp but somehow still tranquil face. The older smiles down at him and rests his hands atop his shoulders. “He’s more invested in you than anyone I’ve seen. It surprises me sometimes.” 

“You? Surprised?” Chan huffs. “I always knew Seungmin could do the impossible, but he really exceeds my expectations sometimes, you know.”

“What’s this? I haven’t seen that sass come out of you in a while, Chan,” Woojin remarks, letting his arms drape over Chan’s chest. 

The blonde laughs slightly. “Maybe it just takes you to bring out the worst in me, Woojin,” he responds, realizing that the tension in his shoulders had dissolved, although he’s sure that Woojin hadn’t so much as laid a hand on the knots that had tied themselves into his back. 

“We came to that conclusion years back,” the brunette responds. 

Chan nods in agreement and closes his eyes momentarily before opening them once again. “I hope that this doesn’t come back to bite us.”

At that, Woojin is silent. He nods and steps away from the blonde, moving back to his bed and opening his laptop once again. He stares at the glowing screen in silence for a few moments before exhaling a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It’s getting late, Chan. You need to be in the hospital at the crack of dawn tomorrow so don’t pull an all-nighter and don’t forget to bring your medication.” 

“Will do,” the blonde assures. “You make sure you get some rest too. You’re not headed for the clinic tomorrow, right?”

“Not tomorrow, no. I just have regular classes.” 

Chan nods and moves to retrieve his pencil from beside the wastebin. “All right. If I’m not in the bed in the next hour, feel free to knock me out.”

“Sometimes it scares me that you mean that literally,” Woojin remarks, almost dryly, only to receive laughter for his troubles. He rolls his eyes fondly and taps through webpages in relative silence as Chan crams information into his brain. 

Less than the predetermined hour later, Woojin glances up at the sound of loud snoring and finds the blonde keeled over his papers, fast asleep. The brunette shakes his head and stands, pulling Chan off his chair with ease and carrying him over to his bed. He lays him down and pulls the blankets over him, smile still present on his lips. “Sleep well.” 

He turns about face and steps back to his own bed, sitting down and picking up his phone. He taps on a contact and balances the phone between his shoulder and ear as he reaches down to type rapidly over the keys of his laptop, his eyes narrowing slightly from his focus.

“Hyung…? I know I said you can call me anytime, but is now really—”

“Shhh, you might wake up Changbin.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about that, hyung. He’s sleeping like a rock on me right now.”

“Should I be jealous?” Woojin asks with a chuckle and the breathy laughter from the other end of the call causes his posture to relax naturally. 

“It’s nice to know that I can make you jealous, you know.” 

Woojin runs his fingers through his hair, pushing his fringe back only for it to fall into his eyes again. “Hyunjin, I’m sure that you’re capable of making anyone jealous. You’re probably the reason why there are people who are jealous of me,” he teases, not unkindly. “But that’s beside the point. I need a favour from you.” 

“What kind of favour are we talking about?” 

“A favour that might be… risky.” Woojin winces slightly at the word, but he can practically feel the excitement emanating from the other end of the call although Hyunjin was on a completely different floor. He wonders if he’s making a mistake, but doesn’t let himself dwell on it for the time being. 

“Oh? What kind of risky?”

“The kind that could jeopardize your security, Hyunjin. I’m sure that if someone else doesn’t do it first, Seungmin will try to himself, and he’s definitely not capable of hiding his tracks as well as you are.” 

There’s a few moments of silence where the only sounds Woojin can hear are Hyunjin’s languid breaths, Changbin’s faint snoring and Chan’s far louder one. He stares down at his laptop screen silently as he waits and then when he hears a chuckle, his smile shifts into a faint almost-smirk. 

"You flatter me, hyung. What do you want?"

Woojin pulls his knee up and props his elbow against it, viewing Jisung's public records on the screen of his laptop. "I want you to find whatever information you can about Jisung prior to him becoming a Lee." He tilts his head slightly. "Find everything you can, and for heaven's sake, be careful. You're too reckless sometimes, it worries me."

"Aw, don't worry about me, hyung, I'm plenty capable!"

"Hyunjin, you somehow managed to get your shoelaces tangled together and tripped over your own feet when we first met."

"What can I say? I fell for you, didn't I?"

"Hyunjin…"

"Yeah, I know, no pick up lines before bed..." Woojin can practically hear the pout in the man's voice and he can't help but smile at that. Hyunjin grumbles. "I can feel you laughing at me."

"But can you hear me laughing at you?" Woojin asks, his eyes crinkled mirthfully. 

"No, but I know you are. On the inside."

Woojin chuckles. "I don't give your perceptiveness enough credit." He leans back against the headboard of the bed and tilts his head back to stare at the dark, stippled ceiling. "You don't do anything right now, though. Sleep first and then when you have the time, please see what you can find."

"You know I have a million questions I want to ask you right now, right, hyung?"

Woojin nods and closes his laptop. "Of course you do. And I'll answer them appropriately later." He smiles. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Hyunjin."

"...all right, hyung. Have a good sleep.

"You too, love." 

Woojin hangs up soon after that and breathes out a sigh, glancing over at Chan's sleeping form with a frown. He shakes his head and readies himself for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it  
> This chapter isn't very eventful, but I promise the next few will make up for it!  
> Again, thank you for reading and I'll see you next chapter <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers and welcome back!  
> It's been a bit of a struggle to write lately, I'm sorry for the subpar quality that might come up, but I hope you'll bear with me <3  
> Thank you for all the continued support  
> Without further ado, let's go!

Before the sun breaks past the leafy canopy outside, Minho is up and about, spots under his eyes and in a state of perpetual movement, already having cleaned the mess that had been created by the ~~uninvited~~ unexpected guests from the night before and whatever else needed some tidying. He would leave preparing something for Felix and Jisung to eat before they left for the day's duties to a little later or it would be cold by the time the pair woke up. 

It mortified him to think back on his behaviour and realize that he had indeed acted as irrationally as charged. He breathes out a sigh and slumps over the kitchen counter, goosebumps lining his skin as a draft worms in through the fissures in the windows.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself up and wipes down the counter before trailing out of the kitchen and falling onto the couch with a sigh. He eyes the tarp covering Jisung’s latest project and curiosity bites at him. He frowns slightly, but eventually gives in and moves over to the tarp, pulling it up. He stares curiously at the polychromatic sculpture, clearly having an intended form, but so abstract that he couldn’t determine what it was meant to be. The layers upon layers of paint that Jisung had meticulously sprayed into even lines were shaved into some..thing, with smooth slopes, almost as though moving water had been frozen solid. Minho just stares at it blankly as though it would start talking to him if he waited long enough. He always knew that he wasn’t cut out to be an artist, but this hit the nail on the head pretty hard.

He lowers the tarp with a huff and loosely strolls over to the staircase, trudging upstairs. He could already hear snoring from Felix’s room, but as he approaches the one that had silently been designated to him, he pauses. Hand already resting on the doorknob but making little move to enter into the bedroom, he instead turns to face the door at the east end of the hall. 

“Jisung..?” he mumbles slowly as he hears whimpers from behind the closed door. Quietly, he pads over to said door, only to stop short entirely at the sound of Jisung’s voice.

“Hurts...go…’way…” 

Minho’s eyes widen and he falters. 

“Please…” 

Suddenly the corridor feels awfully dark and long, leaving Minho feeling cornered as he stares at Jisung’s door, ever slightly open, allowing his muffled voice to escape and fade off into nothing. He closes his eyes and tries to wash the sounds of wailing and...tearing...that grabbed at him away. The acrid odour of blood mixed with vomit claws its way up his nostrils, and he sways slightly, feeling lightheaded. He reaches out to steady himself against the wall and opens his eyes, staring at the offending door.

“H-help me—”

Minho rubs at the goosebumps that hadn’t erased themselves from his arms, and takes a tentative step towards the door. He shudders at the suddenly cloying draft and grapples forward at thin air. His hand clenches into a fist and he closes his eyes, breathing in slowly to calm himself down. It wasn’t a small space at all but he felt cramped nonetheless, struggling to coordinate his vision with the rest of his body.

Finally he pushes the door open, nearly knocking over an...was that a flooring plank? He stares at it blankly for a moment before turning to face Jisung’s hunched figure, curled up on the mattress that was still on the floor. The brightening sky lightened the room well enough for Minho to see the grimace on Jisung’s face as he remains eerily still on the mattress, hand holding the chipmunk fleece blanket in a fist so tight that his knuckles blanched. 

“H-hurts— L-leave...me…’lone..”

The pitch of the brunette’s voice was much higher than Minho was accustomed to hearing, and his eyes widen when he catches the light catching on a small tear as it crawled slowly down the man’s cheek. Minho nearly turns and bolts from the room, the urge to retch and vomit nothing climbing up his throat. But he doesn’t because the sight of Jisung looking so utterly small and defenceless—fleeing the scene would be like betrayal. Not to Jisung, but to himself.

Swallowing back his pride and his unwanted recollections, Minho quietly steps over to the brunette’s side and stares down at him. He reaches down and rests his hand in Jisung’s hair, which was surprisingly soft considering how it seemed to go between straw and french-fry-level grease with seemingly no in-between. He just keeps his hand there, not even a smile touching his lips as he stares tiredly down at Jisung, who remains curled up. “You’re so troublesome,” he mutters. “You really want to come back and haunt me, huh?”

Jisung mumbles something incoherent, silencing Minho. Another teardrop catches the wheat-gold of the rising sun and Minho quickly swipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “...it’s all right now, Jisung,” he murmurs. “You’re safe.” He leans down, staring at the brunette’s small, sleeping features. “You’re…safe,” his voice cracks. He turns away from the brunette, his throat tightening. At least there was one.

Unable to look at the brunette any longer, Minho stands up slowly. He glances back to see that Jisung looked much more relaxed now, his face no longer contorted into a painful looking grimace and his frame uncurled. Minho quickly leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. He leans against it and closes his eyes, breathing out a sigh. 

“Minho…?" Minho stiffens at the rough voice that calls out to him, but relaxes when he sees a glossy-eyed Felix with an awful case of bedhead staring at him sleepily as he rubs his eyes. There's a large fox plush hugged to his chest and a generally soft aura around him, and suddenly the foreboding feeling that had suspended over the area fades at the blonde's warm presence. "What're you doing there?"

"I should be asking you why you're awake so early," Minho replies, striding over to him and ruffling his hair before attempting to tame it down. "You're a late riser normally." His lips curve up into a lazy smile to hide the coils of unease that had taken root in his gut. 

"Can't I wake up early?" Felix huffs, pouting slightly and Minho's eyes soften. It's difficult to not melt under Felix's influence when the man could quite possibly be the cutest person he's ever met. He messes with Felix's hair again. 

"Well you should enjoy whatever sleep you can get as much as you can. You won't get it all the time."

Felix shrugs. "I tried going back to sleep. It didn't work out, and everyone else is still sleeping so there’s no one to bother.” He rubs at his eyes again. “Was thinking of taking a shower and grabbing something to eat. And then maybe going for a walk.” 

“Well, then, you do that,” Minho hums, patting Felix’s shoulder and stepping past him. “I’ll go make you and your brother something to eat.” 

“Wait!” Felix calls out before he has the chance to escape floor and refuge himself in the kitchen like he seemed to be doing a lot nowadays. He stops short and casts a glance back at the blonde only to meet frowning lips and a creased brow. Felix crosses his arms over his plush fox, and although Minho knew that he would be in for some kind of admonishment, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks to keep a straight face while Felix sported his messy hair, disoriented appearance and doe eyes. 

“I’m waiting,” Minho calls back, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Felix’s lips purse into a line. “Minho, you really don’t have to keep cooking for Sung and I, you know…” He seems about to say more, but Minho just raises a finger to his lips for silence before the freckled blonde has a chance to carry on.

“Oh, I know I don’t,” Minho responds simply, cracking his knuckles absently as he lowers his hand from his lips. “I could just let you all stuff your bodies with dangerously large doses of MSGs from all those packs of instant ramyun that you brought along with you or burn down the kitchen.” He smirks slightly. “But I won’t because I’m nice and I like that kitchen.” He waves Felix off. “So go take your shower before all this noise wakes Jisung up and I have to deal with him too.” 

He strides downstairs into the kitchen and breathes out a sigh. Fortunately he had distracted Felix well enough for the man to not further question his motives from being at Jisung’s door in the dying hours of night. It was strange to think about once Minho had the chance to consider all that had happened. It left a bitter feeling in his throat, but he keeps it under his skin. He’s messed up once, and in front of all of Felix’s and Jisung’s friends, no less. He’s fortunate that they were good people.

When he glances up from the stove at the sound of muffled footsteps, he sees a certain freckled blonde, honey skin catching the sharp sunlight that filtered through the window as he passes through the living room with its lights still turned off. Minho lowers the heat on the stove and turns to eye him up and down. “I’d think you’d look more tired, going to sleep so late and then waking up early.”

Felix, still towelling off his saturated locks, offers Minho a grin. “I’m pretty surprised too. I guess it’s just one of those weird days, eh?” he giggles, his eyes crinkling. “Thanks for the meal, Minho.” 

“Thanks for appreciating it, cutie,” Minho responds, a loose edge in his voice and a slight smirk on his face because he had a reputation to keep up.

“I thought you called Jeongin that?” Felix hums, sitting himself down at the table. 

Minho remains by the counter, propped up by his elbows and head tilted lazily. “I say it where it’s due.” 

Felix huffs and begins to eat with a will while Minho watches him quietly. He turns his back to the blonde after a few moments of silence and shuts the stove off. Carrying the dishes to the sink, he begins to wash them quietly. It's a rather peaceful moment, one that he had become alienated to since the advent of Felix and Jisung, since when either one of both of them were present, there was sure to be banter involved somehow. 

"You never ask us to help you with the cleaning," Felix suddenly pipes up, breaking the silence. Ah well, it couldn't last. "I feel kinda bad…" Minho hears footsteps and before he realizes it, he's nudged away from the sink by Felix, who steals his gloves and slips them onto his own hands. 

Minho cocks an eyebrow. "Well you never offered. I...don't like messes." He shrugs. 

"Way to go guilt-tripping me," Felix grumbles playfully and Minho can't help but smile. 

"If it makes you do the dishes, then you're welcome," he responds frankly. In the end, he settles with drying the dishes and putting them back in their place, feeling restless from having nothing to do. He leaves food out on the table for Jisung, in case the man woke up before turning to watch Felix. "You still going on that walk? I'll join you."

"Oh, really? Great!" Felix grins and tosses the rubber gloves aside, wiping his hands on a dry dishcloth. "Just let me grab a jacket and we can head out."

Minho nods and heads for the door. "I'll be outside." With that, he slips on a pair of shoes and opens the door, brisk morning hair brushing over his face. He closes his eyes and breathes in, hearing the twittering of the early rising creatures out among the leaves that surrounded them. He steps onto the grass, burdened down with dew that glistened in the waxing light. Minho chuckles as one of the swallows that housed itself in the eaves of the cabin flutters down to alight on his shoulder. He rubs its head with the pad of his finger and whistles softly only to have it chirp back at him. 

The door opens and Felix strides out, wrapped comfortably in a coat. The swallow takes to the air again and shelters itself back in the eaves, peeking out at them. Minho smiles in amusement at the sight, his eyes crinkling at their corners. Felix follows his gaze and stares at the winged creature hiding in the rotting wood. 

"Was that bird just—"

"Are you sure you aren't tired? You're imagining things now," Minho chirps taking Felix's wrist and tugging him along the clearing and into the forest. Felix blinks owlishly and follows him. 

For a few minutes they stroll along in relative silence, soaking in the fragrant air and warm sun that filtered its way to them through the melange of cool, morning air and musky wood. Minho cracks his knuckles and casts a glance at the blonde by his side, who seems more lost in thought than anything, gaze distant and features lax. The corners of his lips curve upwards ever so slightly and he looks away, listening to the rustling of leaves as creatures scuttle through the branches and the undergrowth, obscured from the unobservant eye. 

When he hears Felix draw in a breath as though about to speak, he naturally turns to face him. The blonde meets his eyes, slightly surprised, and he naturally ends up smirking. The upper edges he had under his sleeves were satisfying to pull out. Felix clears his throat slightly. "Minho, how do you feel about Jisung?"

Minho stops short in his tracks, and their walk comes to an abrupt halt. "What?"

"How do you feel about Jisung?" Felix repeats slowly. "You've both said you don't like each other, but you were really concerned about him when he didn't come home. And why were you even in his room this morning anyway?" Minho really needed to give Felix's attention span more credit. 

"He was having a nightmare. So I just stayed with him until he calmed down," Minho responds truthfully. His brow furrows and he turns to eye the blonde again. "Don't start thinking strange things, I meant what I said about your brother. He's got an awful personality and he's difficult to get along with."

Felix shakes his head fervently in disagreement, surprising Minho. "That's not true! I'm sure you can see that we're not actually related to each other by blood..you don't know what his past is like, you can't judge him just because of how he acts now!" Felix frowns, eyes dropping to the leaf-dappled forest floor. "Jisung is a really friendly person around most people. And he's the most loyal person I know. I really don't understand why you two are trying so hard to dislike each other." Minho can't help but smile mirthlessly at the irony of it all. He breathes out a resigned sigh.

"Listen, Felix, you need to realize that there are people in life that you just can't get along with. You can't see eye to eye, and even if you try to make it work, it doesn't. It doesn't mean any of the people involved are bad people, it's just the way it is." Minho stares up at the blue that breaks through the cracks in all the greenery. "Jisung...it'd be a lie to say that I don't care about him. I'll admit that. But we can't get along. That's just how we are."

"I'm sure if you both tried harder—"

Minho's dark eyes fixate on Felix's chocolate ones. "You can't make people be friends because you want to," he shuts down sternly before the blonde even has a chance to complete his sentence. "It's just that we won't click. We can't click. That's all." Cracking his knuckles, Minho turns around, staring out at the path they followed. "It's getting late. Jisung might be awake. Let's head back."

Before he can so much as take another step, he feels fingers loop around his wrist, holding him fast. He sighs and glances back at Felix. “Yes?”

“Can you promise one thing then?” Felix asks, his brown eyes glimmering in appraisal, but otherwise unreadable. Minho scrutinizes him silently for a few moments before finally drawing back and nodding, standing himself an arms distance of Felix and crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

“It really depends on what you want me to promise.” 

Felix nods in understanding. “I know that our friends don’t trust you fully. And honestly speaking, we barely know anything about you.” Felix’s grip tightens around Minho’s wrist. “Maybe you actually want to do something bad. I wouldn’t know. But Sung, he’s— someone who needs other people. He used to be someone who couldn’t trust anyone, but I feel like he’s slowly starting to trust you even if he doesn’t act like it. So please don’t break his trust. Minho, take care of Jisung.” 

The brunette searches his gaze quietly before moving his wrist away from Felix’s grasp and letting out a bark of sardonic laughter. Felix’s eyes widen, but Minho just turns around and walks off. After a few footsteps, the man pauses and tilts his head back at Felix, his gaze a warm honey in the percolating sunlight. “You say that like I don’t already.” 

Felix’s shoulders fall as a wave of relief washes over him, and he follows after Minho with a breathless laugh. 

* * *

“You know, Hyunjin, you could’ve done this somewhere else…” 

Hyunjin shrugs lazily from where he’s draped over the elder like a blanket, tapping at the screen of the laptop in front of both of them. They’re both seated on Woojin’s bed, Hyunjin having insisted on staying at his and Chan’s room. “That’s boring. What am I supposed to do, go to the library?” Hyunjin shudders. “Libraries are gross. Besides, if I’m here, then hyung can see the results firsthand.” A smile creeps onto Hyunjin’s lips and he plants a kiss on the back of Woojin’s neck. 

“You could always just admit that you’re afraid of what you’ll find,” Woojin teases, earning a whine from the taller man. He shifts and reaches back to tangle his fingers in Hyunjin’s slightly unkempt hair and close the distance between their lips. He feels the blood rush to Hyunjin’s face and he moves back with a chuckle, leaning his forehead against the other’s. “Or that you don’t want to do it alone.” 

“Never,” Hyunjin chirps back, his grin returning despite his pink ears. He bumps Woojin’s cheek with his head and tuns to face the screen once again. “So you said Jisung, right? Why Jisung? Why so suddenly?”

Woojin raises a finger to his lips. “Don’t ask any questions yet. I have a theory that I need to investigate, but I’m sure I’ll need your help.” He shifts and slips out from Hyunjin’s embrace, causing the man to tumble over on the mattress and stare up at him in betrayal. He smiles and leans down to peck Hyunjin’s forehead. “I’m just going to fetch you something to eat,” he tells him. “It’s better for you to not have me distracting you.”

“But—” Hyunjin protests, only to have his lips silenced with Woojin’s finger. The man shakes his head.

“Hurry,” Woojin tells him firmly.

Hyunjin pouts and then frowns before rolling over to face the laptop screen again. He reaches for the keys and lazily taps at them before peering up at Woojin. “Fine, but you owe me an explanation, dinner, and cuddles,” he negotiates. 

Woojin chuckles, a warm glimmer in his eyes. “Anything, darling.” 

As Hyunjin turns back to the screen, a gratified smile lighting up his features, Woojin leaves the room, listening to the rapid taps of his fingers against the keyboard and he breathes out a soft sigh. Sometimes he wonders if he’s really making the correct decisions. Many a time his decisions were based on observation and trust in his environment, and it had been a while since he had to make any pressing choices, but he can’t help but feel as though entasking Hyunjin with something that held chances for many unknown variables to interfere was selfish on his part.

He shakes his head slowly and moves to the fridge to see if there was anything salvageable inside. He trusted Hyunjin’s ability, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t feel guilty for throwing him to the lions that lurked in the shadows. Of course Hyunjin would do anything he asked if he believed that he was capable of it and that mitigated the apprehension that swam in his gut, but not by much.

Woojin finds some grapes at the back of the fridge and grabs them, washing them and tossing them in a bowl before moving back into the room and setting the bowl down on the bed beside Hyunjin. He then sits down and looks over the screen as Hyunjin scrolls rapidly down a page, his eyes flicking from one side of the screen to the other as he scans the words he sees with a lightning focus. The amazement and envy that the man’s hard-pressed talent could evoke in him surprised him sometimes.

“Hyung...what was your theory?” Hyunjin asks, his voice oddly muted. “About Jisung?”

“Why, have you found something already?” Woojin asks, sitting down beside him and peering curiously at the screen. 

Hyunjin blinks slowly, almost as though to rest his eyes from the sensory overload that he was forcing them through. “Hyung, answer me first. Please. I need to know so that I can keep going." 

The seriousness in Hyunjin's tone breaks Woojin's will to keep his intentions under a low profile and he turns to eye Hyunjin, who had stopped scrolling and was now sitting, eyes closed, waiting. Woojin sighs and reaches up to trail his fingers through Hyunjin's soft hair, playing with it absently as he muses on how he should tell Hyunjin. He feels the man relax under his touch and he lifts his eyes to watch the subtle movements of the man, how he leaned ever so slightly into the touch, how he seemed calmer although he would have not appeared uncomposed to anyone who didn't know him. It didn't hide the apprehensive thrum that beat insistently under his skin, however, and Woojin knows that he had no reason to hide anything. 

"Seungmin looked into Minho's identity since we all know that it's odd for him to be here, and discovered that he's been long dead, so his current existence is an anomaly," he states calmly. He feels Hyunjin tense under his touch and he lowers his hand from the man's hair. "Now before you ask what any of this has to do with Jisung, that's where my theory comes in." When Woojin glances over at Hyunjin again, he's met with dark, intent eyes, hanging onto his every word. Woojin's fingers curl on the mattress, loosely gripping the sheets. "I noticed that Minho's behaviour around Jisung is unusual. He treats him like one would treat someone that they've known for a while, and I'm sure you've noticed that he doesn't treat Felix the same although they should have met around the same time."

Woojin's loose fist unfurls and curls back as he speaks, almost absently. "While that could be because of personality differences and the way they interact, it's not likely. There's a depth to the interactions that Minho has with Jisung that doesn't make much sense to me." He pauses to gather his thoughts. "We know that Jisung was taken in by Felix's family when he was young, and it happened around twenty years ago. Which is around the same time Minho died. The point I'm trying to make is...I believe they may have encountered each other before Jisung was adopted. And Minho remembers him."

Hyunjin lets out a dry laugh. "Hyung...hyung, you're talking about all of this like it's normal. Do you realize how crazy you sound?" He's quiet for a few seconds before bursting into full-fledged laughter. "Oh, hyung, you're crazy, you really are," he gasps, wiping tears of mirth from his crinkled eyes while Woojin just watches on in bemusement. 

It takes a minute or two for Hyunjin to finally gather himself enough to breathe normally and he sighs, long and loud before opening his eyes to offer Woojin a familiar grin, a spirited gleam in his dark eyes. "Minho? Dead? Jisung and Minho meeting each other in the past? Jisung losing his memories of it?" Woojin would have felt mocked, was it not for the excitement lacing Hyunjin's voice. 

"Hyunjin—"

"Hyung, we're diving headfirst into a lot of trouble," Hyunjin chirps, sounding far too pleased despite the context of his words. His eyes crinkle again and he giggles, something almost bordering on elation written in his face. It sends a slight shiver down Woojin's back but he reaches forward and grips Hyunjin's shoulder firmly. 

"Hyunjin, focus," he scolds. "I know it sounds crazy. I would've never thought I'd say anything like it, but we're experiencing it right now." He pauses. "Wait— have you found something?"

"Who do you take me for, hyung? You've confirmed a lot of things that I've found," Hyunjin hums, turning back to his laptop and tapping on a tab. "And a little more than that too. Took a bit more digging to get to the good stuff, but anyway, look here."

Hyunjin taps on the screen. "There was a missing persons report filed years back for a Han Jisung, age three years old who never came back home after playing in the neighbourhood park one evening. His caretaker also went missing, but was never found. Jisung was only found a few years later in a completely different city covered in abrasions and heavily drugged. He's assumed to be a victim of child-trafficking." Hyunjin glances back at Woojin's grim face and smiles. "Upon waking up after receiving treatment at the hospital, he couldn't recall anything other than his name, presumably because of the profuse drugging and trauma."

Woojin releases the leg of his pants, not having realized that he was holding it in a fist so tight that his knuckles blanched. He breathes out slowly, calmly, and nods. "Is that all you found?"

"Oh, that's not the half of it, hyung," Hyunjin trills a dark glint in his eyes. "People have suspected the Black Tiger underworld syndicate to be the one behind his disappearance, along with the disappearance of other children, teens, and young adults. A common trait shared by all the missing people suspected to have been abducted by Black Tiger is a track of near perfect if not perfect health."

"Black Tiger?" Woojin echoes slowly. "They've been laying low in the recent years, haven't they?" 

"And that's where the dirty work comes in, hyung," Hyunjin continues. "It took a bit of...looping around the system should we say— to get this information." He smiles a tight-lipped smile and taps around his tabs again. "I'll probably have to get a new laptop after this," he jokes. "I found some records on Black Tiger." His features suddenly slacken and he turns to meet Woojin's eyes. "Hyung, use this information carefully."

He turns the screen to Woojin to let the man read for himself, and Woojin's breath catches, his eyes widening into saucers. When he commits the information to memory, he reaches forward with a shaking hand and shuts down the laptop. Drawing in a slow breath he waves it aside, feeling rather sick. "Hyunjin, get rid of it," he states, his voice slow and carefully steady. "If you want, I'll get you a new laptop to replace it."

Hyunjin eyes him worriedly and reaches out to rest his hand over Woojin's. His fingers curl around Woojin's hand and he leans forward to peck the elder's cheek. "Hyung, it's all right," he reassures. "I'll be fine. I'm worried now though." He smiles against Woojin's skin. "It's so exciting I could die." He hums and stands up, carrying his laptop out of the room and leaving Woojin sitting stunned on the bed, bowl of grapes untouched and abandoned. 

Woojin's lips curl into a longsuffering smile and he shakes his head. "That's not reassuring at all, Hyunjin."

As though the man had heard him, Hyunjin's head pops in from the door and he grins. "So, what will you do about it?" He asks, traipsing back inside and sitting beside Woojin. 

"Confront the matter. It was bound to be uncovered eventually," Woojin replies almost immediately. "If this is true…"

Hyunjin smiles. "All right, hyung. I trust your decision."

Woojin ruffles the younger man's hair and nods. "Thanks for the help, Hyunjin. You should head to your seminar soon. I'll talk to Felix or Jisung about dropping by for a visit later."

"All right." Hyunjin stands and then pouts. "No goodbye kiss?"

Woojin chuckles and stands as well, leading Hyunjin to the door. "I like to think of it as a 'see you soon' kiss," he replies before pecking Hyunjin on the lips. "I'll see you soon, darling." Hyunjin flushes and Woojin chuckles. "It's been years and you still get so flustered," he teases gently. "It's cute."

"Hyung," Hyunjin whines only to be silenced by another soft peck. 

"Go on, Hyunjin. I need some time to think about how we should go about this."

Hyunjin sighs and drapes his arms over Woojin's shoulders, meeting his eyes. "You're always telling me to be careful, hyung, but you be careful too. And no matter what, trust me. I'm good at what I do." He smiles a smaller smile and huffs softly. "I trust you, hyung. So trust me too."

Woojin chuckles dryly and wraps an arm around Hyunjin's waist. "At this rate we're not going to get anywhere," he remarks. "I do trust you, Hyunjin, but even trust doesn't outweigh worry." 

"Aw, darn, you saw through my perfect plan," Hyunjin hums. He laughs slightly and steps away from Woojin, meeting his eyes again. "All right, I'll see you later, hyung." He steals a quick peck before turning to leave. 

Woojin nods and watches his retreating back until he's no longer in sight. He then retreats back into his room and grabs his phone, dialling a number. Holding the phone to his ear, he tilts his head back and waits. "Ah— hello? Jisung? Yes, mind if we pay a visit later on…?"

* * *

"...why are you all here again? I just said yes to Woojin hyung," Jisung grumbles, arms crossed over his chest and glaring down Hyunjin, Seungmin, Chan, Woojin, and Changbin. Jeongin was an exception from his ire since Felix was probably the one to drag him there anyway. 

Hyunjin chuckles sheepishly and rubs the back of his head. "They said they wanted to tag along…?"

"I didn't even invite you, dumbass!" Jisung huffs flicking Hyunjin's forehead, making him whine petulantly. 

"It was me who decided that they should all be here," Woojin breaks in before any more violence can take place. 

Jisung glances up and sighs, reluctantly moving away from Hyunjin. "....I guess it's okay then." He ignores Hyunjin's complaints, shutting the brunette up with a hand clapped over his lips. "...what did you need us here for anyway?"

Minho emerges from the kitchen with a plate of vegetables and dressing, setting it down on the coffee table between them. Jeongin's eyes sparkle and he dives for the cucumber sticks almost immediately, causing the brunette to coo and mess with his hair teasingly. Woojin watches the scene, his neutral expression fading into a frown before he turns to face the rest of them. He raises an eyebrow when he finds Jisung struggling with six baby carrots stuck in his mouth, Seungmin holding another baby carrot and looking terribly self-satisfied, Hyunjin ignoring the plate like the plague, Changbin poking at the cherry tomatoes, and Felix chewing on a celery stick. Chan seemed somewhat amused by the scene, and Woojin relaxes at that. 

"Well, I think I'll wait until you guys are finished before saying anything, then," he decides. He doesn't miss the way Minho's eyes dart over to him and darken, but he doesn't do the man the dignity of meeting his gaze just yet. 

Drawing in a slow breath, he closes his eyes onto to feel a warmth encapsulate his hand. He opens his eyes to find Hyunjin smiling sweetly up at him from where the man was seated cross-legged on the floor. He offers a smile of his own and then chuckles as Jisung shoves a floret of broccoli into the taller man's mouth causing him to splutter and cough. 

"Quit the PDA, Jin," the brunette mutters and Hyunjin, with a little effort, manages to put him under a headlock. 

Seungmin steals a glimpse at Woojin and promptly looks away from him with a sigh, instead sidling over to Chan and boredly poking his lips with a stick of pepper. Humouring him, the blonde bites it out of his hand and eats it. 

It takes a few more minutes before Jisung is out of choking hazard's way, carrots safely down his throat. When it does happen, he immediately turns to look at Woojin. "So what were you getting all of us here for?" He asks. 

"Because we're all already invested, so we all have the right to know," Woojin states. 

"Know what?" Changbin asks his brow furrowed slightly. 

"Who you are." Woojin finally meets Minho's gaze, his own unwavering, even when the man's face contorts into something skeptical.

"What do you mean? I've already introduced myself, right? Or...Jisung and Felix introduced all of you to me before I had the chance to do it myself." He crosses his arms over his chest defensively, cracking his knuckles as he steps back.

"Never a proper introduction," Woojin points out calmly. "Yang Minho."

Minho stiffens abruptly, his eyes widening.

If it was that easy to silence them, Woojin should have found another trump card like this sooner. The quietness was interrupted only by the cooing of the songbirds that alighted on the windowsill and the chirping of cicadas. Not a word is spoken within the cabin in the middle of the woods as the name is processed by even the minds that had heard of it before.

"Yang Minho?" Changbin suddenly murmurs, finally breaking the stifling silence that surrounds them. "I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before…"

"Yang Minho?" Minho echoes sharply, a bark of humourless laughter eliciting from his lips. "I thought we came to the conclusion that my name was Lee Minho. Now you're going and changing it."

"I guess a Minho by any other name wouldn't be as sweet," Jisung mutters under his breath and Felix snorts, but then turns to stare at Woojin in puzzlement. 

"Hyung, what's so important about this? It's got to be important if you brought all of us together to say it."

Minho's eyes darken and he steps away from where he stands by Felix and Jeongin. He points a finger at Woojin and motions for him to follow before stalking upstairs. Woojin glances back at them, his gaze mellow. "I'll be back. I'll explain," he states before lifting himself to his feet and following after Minho. 

The brunette waits for him in his bedroom, and when Woojin enters, he immediately grabs him by the collar, slamming him against the door. "What do you think you're doing?!" Minho hisses, his eyes wide with distress, lips set in a straight line. 

"I'm telling them what they ended up tangled in when they encountered…or even re-encountered you," Woojin responds coolly. "We've been close to each other. We don't hide many things from each other, especially not important things." 

Minho laughs, the sound choked and dry. "So you even know about that, huh? Why did you have to stick your noses in where they don't belong? I'm dead, we've already come to that conclusion. Why couldn't you just leave it at that? I wasn't going to hurt anyone. You were all safe. Now I don't even know if that's true any more! How could you put yourself and your friends in danger like that?"

Woojin meets his eyes and reaches up to grip Minho's wrist, lowering his hand from his collar. "You're wrong. It's not only them that need to know. There's something that you need to know too...in fact, our security has little to nothing to do with you." Woojin releases Minho's hand entirely. "I think you misunderstood me. When I wanted to talk to everyone, I wanted to talk to you too. I'm not fully sure of everything, but I have enough."

Minho falters and steps back, covering his eyes with a and and laughing again, hoarsely. "I should've threatened Jisung and Felix when I had the chance. Should've made them leave…" he laughs again.

"Even if you did, it wouldn't change the current situation too much," Woojin states. "Please, let me explain myself." He turns and rests his hand on the doorknob to open the door. "I promise what I have to say both concerns you and will probably interest you too." He heads out of the room and returns downstairs. After a few moments, Minho collects himself and returns downstairs as well. Woojin turns to watch the expectant faces that stare at him. 

"Well..?" Chan interjects, urging him to continue where he had left off. 

"To give a proper introduction," Woojin starts once again. "Yang Minho, ex-heir of Yang Enterprises." 

"That's it!" Changbin exclaims, his eyes widening. "That's where I've heard of it! In an economics lecture or something—"

"Wait—" Jisung gasps, suddenly shooting stock upright. 

"Yang Enterprises?" Felix echoes simultaneously. "As in—"

Their eyes immediately dart over to Jeongin, whose eyes are wider than they've ever been before as he stares at Woojin. The blonde's eyes shift from Woojin to Minho, only to discover Minho's eyes equally as wide as his own. The brunette's legs shake and he slowly steps towards Jeongin, kneeling down in front of him and taking his head in his hands, for the first time taking in all the details of his features: the familiar face and jaw structure, the pronounced cheekbones, the narrow eyes— 

Jeongin freezes at the touch, his own gaze fixated on Minho with a kind of fearful fascination. Although the unasked questions were accumulating at a breakneck speed, no one dared to speak, lest it incur the wrath of either of the two. Minho's eyes turn glassy and he looks down, hiding his face. He lifts his head again after a few moments and stares at Jeongin once again. 

"Little brother?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sudden, and it might be confusing, but it'll be explained soon, promise!  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this, and I'll see you next time <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 8, dear readers  
> Thank you all so much for 1k+ hits, your support always means so much  
> I hope you enjoy and I hope that some mysteries are solved while others will be unravelled~  
> Without further ado, lets get into it

A pin would be heard if it dropped in that moment, where even heartbeats quieted themselves so as not to be heard, and Jeongin’s eyes widen even further if at all possible as he stares into Minho’s eyes, dark and catlike, shining with a certain shock in them. It was nothing compared to how he himself felt, however, being told by an objective outsider that this man, whom they had met completely by chance was a relative of his.

Suddenly he scuttles away from Minho’s grip, lines forming on his forehead as he frowns. “No— no that’s not— I’m not your brother!” he whispers slowly, as though in attempts to convince himself. “I’m an only child! I’ve never any siblings!” 

Minho just observes him silently, looking him up and down, taking in his image, but neither agreeing or denying his words. He closes his eyes and breathes out a harsh sigh. “Woojin, explain yourself,” he mutters, his voice tense. “I won’t say anything.” 

Before Woojin has a chance to open his mouth, Seungmin interjects from where he had been watching everything in relative silence between Changbin and Chan. “I think I understand now.” 

Eight pairs of eyes land on him, some more curious, others in bewilderment. Seungmin turns to stare at Minho. “I never connected two and two together because now I’ve known you as Lee Minho, but this makes more sense.” Seungmin turns to face Minho. “Sometimes in applied forensics, we’ll be made to investigate certain phoney crimes or mysteries, and they’re based off real life events that are open for disclosure. One of those was the disappearance of the Yang heir.” Seungmin frowns. “Although it was supposedly solved, I think that they’ve gotten lazy in covering their tracks. What I’m trying to say is I’ve figured out how you died.” 

“Hold up— backtrack for a moment,” Jisung suddenly interrupts. “Died?” His eyes flicker over to Minho apprehensively and his body naturally inches away from him. “That’s...not possible, right..? Right?” he laughs nervously. Minho remains silent, his eyes affixed on Seungmin, silently demanding him to continue. 

The younger of the pair nods. “When I first decided to find out who Minho really was, I discovered that he had died around twenty years ago. That means that, if the time gap is accurate, Minho died either when or before you were born, Jeongin. You must have known that your mother is your father's second wife, so in that sense, yes, you're the only child of your mother. Which would make Minho your half-brother. And considering how he didn’t realize that you are his biological brother, he probably didn’t know that you were born.” Seungmin shrugs. “That aside, the case was seemingly solved when it was revealed that the heir passed on from cardiac arrest in the privacy of his own property, causing an uproar in the business world. Lee Minho appears to have died in the same manner as Yang Minho. So the question is, if the information is public and all the same, why was there a need to change his name?”

“Because it’s fake,” Chan suddenly breathes, his eyes lightening in realization.

Seungmin nods. “And I have you to owe for evidence on that, hyung,” he states, glancing over at Chan. “You’re the one who saw his health records, which showed no evidence of any kind of health issues. Minho was a perfectly fit person, and did not have any health complications or disease. There is a chance that it could have been broken heart syndrome, but I don’t believe it was because of the lack of evidence.” Seungmin stands and steps over to Minho. “You were murdered.”

“Murdered—” Changbin mutters, his eyes wide and his features slack. 

“Yes, murdered. And I’m fairly certain I know whom by, although I still need to investigate more. I’ll tell you my hypothesis, but until it’s proven true, it’s only a hypothesis and I want it to be treated as such.” Seungmin raises a finger and points it at Minho’s chest. “Why would Yang Enterprises suddenly disclose the information about your death, but then also go through the trouble of changing your name? Not only that, Lee is your late mother's surname, isn't it? It was a lazy mistake. It would’ve made more sense to keep the death a secret and have your name changed, or to disclose it and keep your birth name. Moreover, why would they want to lie about the cause of your death when it obviously doesn’t match up to your records?” 

“Because they were the ones that murdered you,” Hyunjin breaks in simply, his voice eerily frank. 

Seungmin nods, sighing at the oppressive silence. “Other than you yourself, only your parents, the heads of Yang Enterprises, would have the legal right to change your name. They have the money to bribe and the manpower to threaten if needed. I don’t know why or how they did it, but that’s why I have to look into it further. It doesn’t explain how you’re here or why you’re here, but explains who you are well enough.” He meets Minho’s wide eyes. “So what do you have to say about that?”

Minho’s gaze drifts from Seungmin to Jeongin, who is staring blankly up at him, stunned into silence and stillness. He closes his eyes for a few moments before turning to face Seungmin once more. “I need a moment,” he breathes, his voice surprisingly placid. He turns and quietly steps towards the door, leaving the house and striding out of the clearing, into the forest.

“Not again—” Changbin mumbles, rising to his feet and running outside before anyone else could call him back. 

The brunette glances back at the sound of footsteps thumping through the peaty ground and his gaze focusses on Changbin. “I said I needed a moment.”

“You never said you needed a moment to yourself,” Changbin retorts, falling into step with him. Minho stares blankly at him before breathing out a huff and turning his head away. He continues to walk, neither accepting Changbin’s presence there nor insist that he leave. For minutes, silence suspends between them, a certain tension guarding it. Minho’s feet leads him to the glade wherein he had fled to only the day before and he sits down on the grass silently. Without a hint of hesitation, Changbin follows him and relaxes beside him.

“So...aren’t you scared?” Minho finally asks, his voice soft. 

Changbin glances over at him, appearing more surprised by his words than anything. “Scared? Scared of what?” He pauses before snorting in amusement. “You?”

Minho gesticulates at air, trying to make his point. “This. All of this.”

“That’s a whole lot of nothing, Minho,” Changbin remarks and the brunette turns to glare at him, unamused.

“You know what I’m talking about! This! This situation. This me being dead thing. This murder thing. This...Yang thing.” 

The shorter man shrugs noncommittally and rests his weight back on the heels of his hands. “Well...yes.” 

“Yes?” Minho echoes, turning to face him, fiddling with a clover blossom that he had plucked out of the grass. 

Changbin nods. “Yes. You’re like...a ghost or something, but I can touch you and interact with you like a normal person. Not going to lie, that’s kind of creepy.”

Minho huffs. “Gee, thanks for the encouragement.” 

“Well how would you feel if a guy that you’ve been hanging around suddenly happens to be a ghost? Don’t you think that’d be strange?” Changbin pauses, raising a knuckle to his lips in thought. “Maybe I shouldn’t be asking that to you, but to me it is.” 

“You know, you’re really weird,” Minho chuckles, looking away from him.

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “I think I’m pretty normal compared to some of the guys,” he digresses. “But like I said, I’m kind of scared of what’s going on now. I’ve gotten into all kinds of trouble before, but this takes it to another level.” 

Minho’s brow furrows. “Then why don’t you just go? Why did you come here? Aren’t you scared of what might happen?”

“Hey, pause there,” Changbin interjects, raising a finger and holding it in front of Minho’s lips, stopping his words from spilling out. “I said I was scared of this situation. Scared of what might happen now that we know that you’re dead and the same people that killed you for whatever reason are probably Jeongin’s parents. Jeongin is like a little brother to all of us. If there’s anything that can potentially hurt him, it scares all of us because we want to protect him.” 

Minho’s silence signals for Changbin to continue, and he does with a slight chuckle. “I never said anything about being scared of you. You’re our friend. There’s no reason for us to be scared of you.” 

“Now I see why Chan worries about your collective safety all the time,” Minho remarks after a few moments of dense silence. “You all have no sense of self-preservation. I could literally have been killed because I murdered a man and you’re sitting here telling me that I’m your friend although you only just found out things about me. They could’ve uncovered my identity, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t be lying to you or hiding things” 

Changbin shrugs. “I don’t know. You could have killed a man for all I know, but you just...don’t feel like a person who’d do that. Besides, we all hide things.” 

“How...reassuring,” Minho sighs.

“Of course you could always ask Seungmin or Woojin hyung to break down why you probably didn’t, but I don’t think you want to do that.” Changbin falls silent and stares down at the grass, lifting his hand and staring at an ant that skitters around it. “Hey, Minho...those things you told me weren’t lies.”

“Things I told you?”

“You studied business but you wanted to study agriculture. Well it makes sense now why you would have studied business. You don’t study any more for obvious reasons. You’ve lived alone for a long time. Clearly. You’ve already told me about yourself, and those weren’t lies.” Changbin offers him a smile. “Whatever you did in the past to result in all this wasn’t something like killing someone. You actually look like the kind of guy that’d be scared of cockroaches.” 

“Cockroaches are the devil,” Minho huffs. “If you aren’t scared of them, you’re an anomaly of nature.” 

“True.” Changbin laughs and rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “But my point is you don’t have to keep pushing us away, Minho. I mean you can if you want. That’s what Jisung did at the beginning…” he chuckles. “You know, you two are pretty similar.”

“Similar...huh,” Minho echoes, the tone of his voice darkening.

Changbin shrugs. “That’s for another time, though. Feel up to heading back or do you want to stay here for a little while?” He tilts his head. 

“I...think I’ll stay. You can head back if you want.” Minho offers Changbin a small smile. “I think I want a moment to myself.”

“That’s what we’re talking about,” Changbin teases, pushing himself to his feet and stretching. “I’ll head back then. Don’t stay too long though, or the search expedition might actually happen.” 

"Yeah, yeah, now get out," Minho huffs and Changbin laughs, turning and walking off. 

Minho doesn’t bother watching him leave, and Changbin doesn’t look back either, leaving him alone. It’s late at night again (since it was most likely the only period of time where they were all free to gather) and part of Minho wants to go back and send everyone off since some looked more exhausted than others. He rests his hand on his torso, gripping his shirt loosely with a sigh. He hadn't realized things were as complex as they were, neither did he expect that Jisung and Felix's friends would delve into the mysteries of his past. It sent a shiver down his spine to think of what else they knew. The look in Woojin's eyes spoke volumes to Minho— he knows full well that the man spoke less than he knew.

From Jeongin's reaction too, it seemed that he was unaware of everything. Minho felt uncertain as to whether he should be relieved or frightened. It was true he had felt a certain kinship upon encountering the blonde, but after seeing the behaviour of the other around Jeongin, he had assumed it was a natural thing. He hadn't realized that the young man was his sibling. Minho curses silently under his breath, his head falling into his hand. Woojin had been right— they were all irrevocably tangled in this mess, even without him. 

He bites his lip and pulls his knees to his chest, curling himself up into a ball of security, almost like Jisung had been just that morning. He shudders and shakes his head. Worst case, they could have retraced him back to Jisung, and the whole mess could escalate. Minho closes his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for Jisung to remember anything. He was living a good life with a good family, a good brother, and good friends. He was pursuing what he wanted to, living the life that he deserved. Minho couldn't bear the thought of it all falling apart if he were to rediscover his previous identity. It would make everything he had shed his blood, sweat, and tears for vain. 

The thought of solitude suddenly becomes more appealing to Minho than it had in years. Being around these people would do nothing but endanger them. He couldn't let that happen. But there was little he could do now that they had trespassed where they didn't belong. He grips his hair in frustration, his skin blanching in the cool night. 

The sky was bathed in an overcast blanket, enshrouding Minho's surroundings in a darkness that made it difficult to see, so when said darkness is perforated by a bright beam of light, Minho flinches and shifts to cover his eyes. The rustle of a familiar set of footsteps among the undergrowth steals his attention and he turns only to find an unexpected face peering down at him, flashlight from a phone glaring down into his eyes. He shields himself with his hand and frowns. "I like having eyesight," he mutters. "Could you maybe not try to make me go blind?"

"Wow, I come looking for you and this is the thanks I get?" Jisung nonetheless does shut off the flashlight, much to Minho's relief. They stare at each other in the darkness before Jisung huffs. "Actually nevermind. I like this better. I can't see your face like this."

"What are you, blind?" Minho retorts, earning himself a glare from the younger man. He turns his head away childishly and crosses his arms over his chest. His gaze scrapes the ground silently as he resists the sudden urge he has to push Jisung away, out of this horrendous glade. They already disliked each other enough, what would one more gesture do?

Jisung plops himself down in front of Minho and widens his eyes as though it would help him see better. "No, I think I have pretty good vision since I can see ghosts now apparently." Minho tenses and Jisung grumbles under his breath. "I should've known you were a ghost."

"Oh? Since when did you get so smart?" Minho remarks, sarcasm dripping profusely off every word that left his lips. 

"I should've hit you with that pipe when I had the chance," Jisung bites back, barely dignifying his words with a proper response. 

The pair fall into a sullen silence that eats away at the encroaching unease that crawled over Minho's skin. He inches away from Jisung only for the brunette to snort and start laughing. Minho blankly turns to eye him as though he had gone insane while Jisung laughs with a force that shakes his shoulders. Jisung covers his eyes, smirking widely as he tries to stop his spontaneous laughter. When he finally does manage to calm down, he wipes water from his eyes and chuckles. "You're really that ghost," he mutters. "It's insane. I'm insane. We're all insane."

"No, I think that's just you," Minho jabs with a huff.

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Don't be mad that you were used to get us dirt-cheap real estate." He smiles, an incredulous glint in his eyes and rests his head in his hand. "It's like one of Lix's bad movies."

"Not even a Casper the Friendly Ghost?" Minho bemoans.

Jisung shrugs. "Well, not unless your uncles are tormenting you beyond the grave or something."

"Don't need that. I have you, don't I?"

Jisung turns to face him with a grimace. "Are you flirting? It sounds like you're flirting. Don't do that, that's gross. You're gross." 

He earns himself a slap upside the head and his vociferous protests are drowned out by Minho's "what are you, five years old?"

"No, I'm like...nine at least," Jisung mutters grumpily, nursing his wounded head.

Minho makes a show of gasping dramatically, hand over his mouth and all, before falling into a sheer deadpan. "Wow, that explains...so much."

Once more, silence proceeds between the both of them before Jisung bursts out into laughter again and Minho, despite being caught completely and utterly off guard by the unexpected mirth, can't help but grin slightly despite his angst because Jisung's laughter was (although grudgingly admitted) contagious. Jisung snorts and topples over on the grass, turning to eye Minho with his cheek squished to the cool dirt. "I really dislike you, I hope you know that."

Minho dusts off his shirt and shrugs nonchalantly. "...I guess the feeling is mutual then."

"Good." Jisung pushes himself to his feet and brushes his clothes down before proffering a hand to Minho. "Now hurry up and get back. Those idiots and Woojin hyung decided that they were all gonna have an impromptu sleepover so help me set up."

"He gets his own category, huh?" Minho remarks dryly, taking Jisung's hand and letting the man help him up after a moment's hesitation. 

Jisung turns to stare at him as though he had grown a second head. "Uh, yeah he does. He's scary." 

Minho brushes down his striped shirt and shrugs. "Okay. Sure."

"You'll see one day," Jisung mutters and begins to walk in the direction that he had come, switching on the light of his phone only to have Minho grab his arm and steal the device from his grip. He glares back at the brunette. "What the hell? Give that back—" 

Minho shuts off the flashlight and tosses the phone back into Jisung's hands without so much as batting an eyelid. He strides ahead of Jisung and glances back at him. "You're going to scare the animals that are trying to sleep with all that light pollution," he scolds sharply. "Just follow me." With the few brusque words, he pads off easily through the brush, listening for Jisung's footsteps and disgruntled, mostly incoherent muttering behind him. Minho breathes out a sigh onto for his eyes to narrow slightly as he realizes that all the unease he had been feeling had melted away. How strange— he hadn't realized when it left, but it certainly wasn't there any more. He felt almost...light, as though a kind of pressure had left his chest.

He laughs dryly at his own thoughts. How ironic.

In minutes, they're approaching the warm light from the house in the clearing. Minho moves towards the door and opens it without regards for lock and key. He blinks owlishly at the sight that meets his eyes and in turn, seven pairs of eyes turn to look at him. Minho purses his lips. At this point he shouldn't have been surprised, but of all the things he had expected to return to, it had not been to some card game. 

Hyunjin is the one to break the silence, waving a card printed with fruit at him, a cheery smile on his face. "Hey, Minho, wanna play halli galli with us?"

"Shouldn't you all be more worried about where you're going to sleep?" Minho asks in turn, his voice slightly sharp. 

The taller man shakes his head, his smile widening into a grin. "We've got it alllll figured out," he assures him. "Innie and Chan hyung will be in Lix’s room, Woojin hyung and Seungminnie will stay in Jisung’s room and Changbin hyung and I will be in yours.” 

“And you decided all of this without me?” Minho accuses. 

“You weren’t here, what were we supposed to do? Housing curfew won’t let us into the dorms at this hour,” Seungmin pipes up and Minho’s glare targets the younger man. 

“Don’t give me that attitude,” Minho retorts. He falls silent, and when none of the eyes leave his person, he sighs. “I have spare pyjamas in the room...and the bed fits two, so one of you is going to be sleeping on the floor.” He stares pointedly at Hyunjin and Changbin. With that, he stalks upstairs without so much as another word.

* * *

Long after everyone had decided to retire, fortunately with enough pyjamas to go around between the extras that Felix, Minho, and himself had to spare, Jisung is left staring at a soundly asleep Woojin on the bed (they had challenged rock-paper-scissors and he had won) from his sleeping mat on the cramped floor. Seungmin too had peacefully drifted off in the small, uncluttered area by the window. The younger man had to borrow Jisung’s oversized clothes since Jisung’s pyjamas were too small for him to fit into. Not that it was Jisung’s problem, it was because Seungmin was too tall.

Jisung just couldn’t understand how Seungmin could possibly sleep in what was potentially the draftiest area of the entire room. Of course Seungmin was secretly some kind of superhuman freak of nature, so that was probably the reason. Jisung sighs and sits with his knees pulled to his chest, mouth resting against the fabric of his pyjamas. No, it was Minho who was the freak of nature— he wasn’t even alive. It still couldn’t sink into Jisung’s mind how the very thing that he had disregarded in the face of cheap real estate existed, and was living right by his side the entire time.

Although now that he does recall it, he hadn’t seen Minho in that room until that night where he had woken him from his nightmare. And that was only one of the many things that troubled Jisung about Minho. Something about the man piqued at an unconscious fear hidden in the corners of his mind. What that fear even was, he wasn’t sure; it wasn’t a fear of Minho himself. Minho annoyed him more than he frightened him, even now knowing that he was dead...did that make him a ghost like the previous owners of the house had claimed? Jisung hadn’t the slightest idea of what to make of it. After all, Minho’s body was perfectly opaque and he could touch the man perfectly fine. Minho hadn’t walked through any walls or doors. Any preconceptions about ghosts that Jisung had were contradicted by Minho’s existence itself.

It wasn’t any of these pressing thoughts that kept the brunette awake, however, as he stares past the mostly open curtains and up at the star-speckled sky, cut through in shadowy, jagged edges by the conifers. Sleep clambered onto his eyelids, weighing them down, but he refused to give in to it, fearful of what awaited him on the dark side of his consciousness. 

What laid in the realm of his dreams the night before was beyond him. He couldn’t recall anything save the stinging thrum against his skin from _something_ painful. Something that began inside of him and ate away at his being until he felt like curling in on himself and begging anyone for it to stop. Not an excruciating pain, but a persistent one that tormented him until it escalated into something that nearly brings him to tears. 

And he hadn’t the slightest idea what it was. Only his body seemed to recall the sensation of something that slithered over him like a serpent and attached itself to his frame like a leech, sucking out his willpower along with his stubbornness. A kind of pain that contorted his mind to wish for any kind of freedom from it, whether it be escape or death.

Jisung buries his face in his knees and swallows the heavy urge in his chest to cry. It wasn’t even something worth crying about, or at least not to him, but his body acted of its own accord, stiffening and lacing with goosebumps. Spotlighted by the filtered moonlight, Jisung felt the urge to run away and hide rushing through his blood, but he can only remain paralyzed in place— and he didn’t know why.

Perhaps that’s what sparked the fire of frustration in his mind, blinding his vision with unshed tears as his hands rise to grip his head as though he were in pain. He wanted to take his fear and anger out on something. He wanted to break something, wear himself down until he was too exhausted to even feel frightened or angry. But he couldn’t since his friends were here, and at the very least he knew he would wake them up. Maybe not Hyunjin, but Hyunjin slept like the dead. Minho on the other hand, ironically, didn’t.

Jisung’s hands fall to his sides, palms pressed flat against his sleeping mat. He draws in a tense breath, his chest constricting, and stiffly pushes himself to his feet. He pads quietly past the mess of his room, careful to avoid knocking anything over and stepping on his crowbar because if he stepped on the damn thing, Felix would never let him hear the end of it. He winces at the creaking of the hinges and glances back. Woojin only shifts on the bed while Seungmin remains both as still and silent as a rock. Relaxing slightly, Jisung slips out into the dark corridor, reaching out to use the wall as a guide as he pads down it tentatively, eyes well adjusted to the darkness already. 

He breathes out a sigh that he hadn’t realized he had been holding as his hand finds its way to the rail of the staircase. His fingers curl over the polished wood and he grips it firmly before taking a step down. He holds his breath as the steps groan under his weight, but he continues to walk until he reaches the floor. He exhales and flips the lightswitch on the wall, squinting as the lights illuminate the living room, grating at his eyes that had grown used to the darkness. 

“...Jisung?”

Whipping around, Jisung’s wide eyes meet Minho’s surprised ones from where the man was seated quietly on the couch, reading one of Felix’s novels. Jisung should have questioned how the man could even read without any lights in this place, where there were no city lights to provide any kind of illumination, and even the moon was too dim to be useful, but that wasn’t the most pertinent issue in his mind. 

“What are you doing down here?” he hisses to make himself heard, emphasizing his words to let Minho know that if he wasn’t currently obligated to be quiet, he would have most likely yelled the question.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Minho replies coolly, turning back to the book in his hands. “I was reading.” 

Crossing his arms belligerently over his chest, Jisung purses his lips. “I couldn’t sleep so I came down here.” It was a lie. His body was feeling the burden of the exhaustion he feared, but he didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to fall into that dream ocean where the only thing that he could remember was that terrible, terrible pain. He blinks owlishly and averts his eyes from the brunette. Minho doesn’t immediately respond to him and he lets his arms fall to his sides with a resigned sigh. Like hell he would actually tell Minho the exact reason why he didn’t want to sleep. It was...humiliating. He didn’t even know the exact reason for himself.

He hears the ruffling of pages and looks up to find Minho carefully shutting the book and laying it on the table. The brunette turns to meet his gaze and he has to stop short when he sees no cynical gleam in the catlike, dark eyes. Again, he’s suddenly reminded of how captivating and _familiar_ those eyes are. It only frustrated him more. Like that pain, he knew those eyes, but he didn’t know what it was. His frown deepens. 

Minho rises to his feet and strolls over to the coat rack, taking a jacket and then holding it out to Jisung. “Come on,” he calls, his voice unusually mellow, lacking in the kind of snark that Jisung was accustomed to when interacting with the man. “Let’s go out for a walk together. Some exercise will help you sleep better.” 

Initially, Jisung wishes that he could just snap back that he didn’t want to sleep, and this little idea of Minho’s was defeating that purpose, but he finds that, in the face of Minho’s considerate gesture, he can’t respond harshly. He lets out a resigned sigh and approaches Minho, grudgingly accepting the jacket. He stares at the brunette as Minho steps directly to the door from there and he frowns. “Aren’t you going to wear a jacket?”

“I don’t feel heat or cold,” Minho responds simply. 

Jisung doesn’t press the question any further than that. He should have realized that all of Minho’s strange behaviours were attributed to the glaring revelation that he was, in fact, not alive. He hugs the storm flap of his jacket to his chest as he follows Minho out of the house in silence. He realizes that he’s never left the house at night for leisure before. 

The only sounds that reach Jisung’s ears are the whispers of the wind through the leaves, causing them to dance in the moonlight, rippling light over the forest floor in undulating dapples, and the sounds of his and Minho’s footsteps, muted by the peaty earth. Every so often, the solitary cry of an owl would pierce through the expanse, causing Jisung to look up, searching for the source of the noise. He sighs and trudges along the path, barely marked out in the earth, almost completely obscured in some parts.

A sudden coolness encapsulating his hand causes Jisung to stiffen and nearly let out an undignified yell, but he stops himself when he realizes that the coldness is actually Minho’s hand. His gaze shoots up indignantly to Minho’s face only to find an expression that seemed almost excited. He feels himself tugged forward and with a few disgruntled “hey”s and “what the hell are you doing”s, he eventually just stumbles over the uneven ground, letting the brunette lead him wherever he was being led.

The trees thin and then clear to give way to a grassy promontory overlooking a quiet stream and open to the majesty of the jewel-studded sky. Minho sits down on the cool greenery, pulling Jisung down beside him. He leans back and lies flat against the grass, his eyes crinkling as he gazes up at the unobscured sky. The sparkling lights in the distance seem to reflect in his dark eyes that suddenly seemed much gentler than Jisung had ever seen before. He can’t help but feel as though he shouldn’t be looking, so he turns away and tilts his head up to stare at the sky.

“...this was what you were so excited about?”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment,” Minho huffs, sounding more amused than offended. “It’s one of my favourite spots. You’re an artist, so appreciate it.” 

Jisung doesn’t have a retort to that, so he does quiet down and lift his gaze back to the sky, soaking in the refreshing breeze and photographing the iridescent sky into his memory. He closes his eyes and draws in a long breath. The air seemed almost sweet, clean. He feels himself relax almost reflexively. Opening his eyes, he turns to eye Minho again, only to find the man actually smiling this time, seeming much calmer than Jisung had witnessed before. For some reason, that sets Jisung’s heart at ease in his chest, and the tightness of fear that he had experienced before had loosened.

When Minho was calm, everything seemed calmer. It was like watching a creature bask in the sun, content to lie there and soak in the warm rays to its heart's content. Of course the jet sky and dim starlight didn't speak of daytime, but Minho still lifted his jaw for the breeze to kiss his face as though, despite his claims of not being able to feel warmth or cold, he could enjoy that small pleasure. 

“It’s weird,” Minho finally states, his eyes closing. “I was so intent on no one finding out. But it’s kind of...relieving, I guess. To not have to hide that any more.” 

“You’re probably going to get questioned a lot,” Jisung points out. “It’s probably going to get even more troublesome.” He pauses and sighs, leaning his weight back against his palms. “But yeah...I guess it probably does feel nice to not have to worry about hiding that.” 

The man beside him turns to face him and searches his eyes for a few moments. "Why, do you have questions?" He asks.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I have questions, like how are you even here if you're...well, dead? Is what Woojin hyung and Seungmin said about you true? How come I can touch you if you're like...a ghost? Can you walk through walls? How did you die? Are you going to kill me? How come you're in that cabin?"

"I shouldn't have asked," Minho remarks dryly, pushing himself upright. "You ask too many questions."

Jisung rolls his eyes. "You're the one who opened Pandora's box," he points out. "So you gonna answer or not?"

Minho pauses, his eyes narrowing in thought. Finally, he shrugs. "Sure. I don't see why not since clearly it's going to come out anyway somehow." He closes his eyes again. "For your first question, there are other ghosts that exist among living people. It's more common than you'd expect. Normally it's because there's something strong enough to bind them to this plane of existence which stops them from passing on. Some know what it is, others don't. If they aren't freed from that bond, then they just wander around until their remains decay and return to dust. When that happens, they just fade away."

Jisung listens in a kind of hesitant fascination to Minho's words, unsure of how to respond. Fortunately he doesn't need to, as Minho continues to speak in answer to his rapid-fire questions. 

"Yes, what they said about me is true. My parents...or at least my father and Jeongin's mother are the owners of Yang Enterprises. Jeongin is my half-brother, although I didn't realize it in the beginning. My mother died when I was young, so eventually my father remarried. I remember that in the months before I died, my stepmother was pregnant. I've always known that I had a little brother out there somewhere, but I didn't know it was him. Yes, I died around twenty years ago. Yes, I was murdered. The hands that did it weren't my parents, but they were probably the ones that ordered it."

Minho's eyes open once again and he glances down at himself, raising his hands and staring at them. "I don't know why you can see me or touch me now. None of the previous owners of that house could. Animals can because their brains haven't evolved to occlude their senses from the supernatural realm." He meets Jisung's eyes once again. "I'm still pretty newly dead so my remains are probably still pretty intact. So no, I can't walk through walls since I haven't started fading enough to walk through walls."

"Don't look at me and say that," Jisung shudders. "That's creepy." He doesn't mention how Minho's responses seem oddly distant, almost lonely. He can't imagine what it would be like, to live twenty years without human interaction. He can't imagine his own flesh and blood turning against him and...murdering him. He shivers and tugs the jacket closer to his frame. It sounded more sad than it did frightening. 

"You're the one who asked," Minho counters. "And no, I'm not going to kill you. Also, I've lived in that cabin for the past years, I'm not going to leave it anytime soon."

"And because I'm nice I won't have you evicted," Jisung adds, prompting a graceless snort from the elder of the pair. 

"Of course, Mr. Lee Jisung, thank you for your benevolence," Minho drawls sarcastically. A slight smile curls onto his lips. "Well, I've told you about me. Now you tell me about you."

Jisung pouts slightly. "No one said this was part of the deal."

"Well, I said so. Just now." Minho steals a glance over at him and lifts a finger to prod at his cheek. "Stop pouting, your face looks weird."

"My face looks handsome, you're just jealous." Minho snorts and Jisung's pout deepens. "Oh, shut up. Not all of us can be born like you. I have nice eyes, okay. And nice lips. And a nice nose. I have nice features."

"Okay," Minho humours teasingly. "And what was that, did I just hear you indirectly call me handsome?"

"About me!" Jisung quickly interjects before they could fall down that rabbit hole. "You wanted to know stuff about me, but I'm only telling you because you told me stuff about you." He doesn't miss the amused glint in Minho's dark eyes, but he pretends to ignore it. "So I was adopted by Felix's family around twenty years ago. I don't really remember anything from before that. I also don't really remember when I started really liking to do art, but I decided from a really young age that was what I wanted to do. Seungmin was the first friend I made after Felix. We went to primary school together. Mine and Felix's parents work for the police department. I nearly punched Changbin in the face when I first met him. Oh, and Chan hyung, Changbin and I started a rap trio in highschool…" Jisung drifts off, his eyes growing distant as though recalling certain things that he would rather not recall.

Minho chuckles. "I didn't ask for the trivia roulette, but I guess the original intention was achieved." He raises an eyebrow. "You nearly punched Changbin in the face, huh? That doesn't surprise me at all."

"Hey, he was kind of a jerk in highschool, okay," Jisung defends. "All tiny and dark and didn't care about anything or anyone. I still have no idea how Chan hyung became friends with him when he'd try to bite the head off anyone that looked at him the wrong way."

"Reminds me of someone else I know," Minho remarks, staring pointedly at Jisung. 

The brunette meets his eyes and then looks away, his ears reddening. "Look, I'm sorry, can you blame me for getting defensive? How often do you encounter ghosts in your house, huh?" He huffs. 

"I have a feeling that you would've tried to hit me anyway regardless."

Their banter stretches until the sky lightens and the stars begin to fade, until Jisung's yawns become more frequent than his words, and eventually silence returns once again as the younger man drifts off on the lush grass under them. Minho's lips curl into a smile at that and he remains seated there, the flowing of the water below and the song of the early-rising birds echoing through the ravine, embracing them in a myriad of sound. Beside him, Jisung snores softly and Minho can't help but feel relieved that the man had fallen asleep. Even if Jisung had hidden away the real reason for his activity so late at night, Minho was well aware of it. 

When the sun begins to peek over the east, causing the sky to burst with a warm gradient of colour, Minho decides that letting Jisung soak up all the dew on the grass would make him catch a cold so he stands and carefully lifts Jisung up onto his back. The brunette remains fast asleep, slumped against his frame as he walks through the forest with ease. He knew the area like the back of his hand, after all. 

Slipping quietly into the cabin, Minho pads across the wood to the sofa, carefully shifting Jisung's slim frame onto it. The brunette stirs, but for the most part remains undisturbed, even as Minho removes the jacket and tosses it onto the coat rack. Holding his breath, Minho traverses the living room, frowning at the loudness of the groaning floorboards in the placidity of the dawn. He retrieves a blanket and returns to Jisung, draping it over his figure. He watches Jisung naturally curl up with the blanket hugged to his chest. The edge in Minho's eyes softens, but he abruptly turns and pads upstairs to rest a little for himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the excitement that's been happening, it's good to relax a bit and enjoy the stars.  
> There's probably confusing bits in this chapter, but in time it'll come together  
> Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this, and I'll see you next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers, welcome back ^^  
> Again I'd like to thank you all kindly for all the love you're giving this story and I hope you continue to enjoy <3  
> Nothing much else to say, so without further ado, let's go

The cereal floats about in a sea of milk, all within the confines of a bowl with cartoonish cacti hand-painted onto it, and Jeongin's eyes listlessly follow the bobbing of the food as he jabs his spoon against the floor of the bowl, eliciting from it an awful screech. It wasn't often that he wouldn't eat when food was set in front of him, but his appetite had vanished and the very thought of eating made a wave of nausea roll in his stomach. He sighs and buries his mouth in his forearm, slumped over the table. It was early, early enough for the sun to form weak rivulets on the hardwood floor as it percolated through the vascular branches of the forest outside, and Jeongin was fairly confident that he was the only one up and about at the moment. Other than the birds that cooed from the eaves and the odd cricket here and there, the only voice that accompanied Jeongin was the age-old creaking of the house.

Hiding his eyes in his arm, he muted a sigh, not wanting to wake up Jisung, who, for whatever reason, was out in the living room, sleeping fitfully on the couch, hair a nest and mouth halfway open in a considerably unflattering manner, but Jisung often treated himself with a similar amount of dignity while he was awake, so Jeongin didn't see a point in trying to preserve what face the brunette had remaining. But now, in the quiet of a morning amidst the woods, Jeongin was left alone with his terribly loud mind, which was currently screaming much unneeded exclamations concerning Minho and his family.

The information overload was dizzying and Jeongin surprised himself by how early he had managed to wake up, with both Chan and Felix sleeping like the dead, the eldest of the three of them occupying the floor by sheer stubbornness despite Felix's ardent complaints while the freckled blonde lay at his side, small fingers loosely entwined with his own, a mellow resting face covering his being. It was with reluctance that he had pulled away from Felix's warmth to ready himself for the day once he had satisfied his need to just watch the man sleep peacefully, just as beautiful as when he was awake and brimming with a cheer that was uniquely his own. 

It meant that now there was no Felix to keep his mind off of more burdensome matters, such as his brother. Jeongin still couldn't quite register the concept in his mind, inclined to brush it off as a lie or joke. It still felt like a lie. He shifts, his cheek resting against his forearm as he stares mindlessly at the box of granola that he had stolen from the pantry for a breakfast that he was no closer to actually eating. Dread coils in his gut like a serpent and he swallows back the urge to retch, lifting himself upright and covering his mouth with a hand. His eyes close and he wills himself to calm down.

His parents had killed his brother. 

Jeongin couldn't imagine such a thing from them; of course they were strict and brutally honest (a trait that he had indisputably inherited), but they were not cruel. Jeongin had counted himself fortunate that they had let him study what he wished to and pursue a career that he had interest in. There was no pressure for him to take on business titles although the subtle encouragements in the form of meetings and business parties were inevitable. Of course, Jeongin trusted Seungmin; he would place his life in the man's hands in a heartbeat, but the tendrils of doubt that crept into his chest at the fact that the brunette suspected that his parents were the ones that were behind the death of someone whose existence he should have known but didn't know were inescapable. The man was astute, but even he was capable of making mistakes. After all, he was only human…

A surprised gasp leaves Jeongin's lips at the sudden warmth that envelops him, and he lowers his hand naturally to the arms that encapsulate him from the source at his back. He leans back, his fingers tightening around the purple material of the pyjama sleeves, unable to fight back the smile that threatened his lips as he feels softness press against his scalp, warming him from his crown down to his toes. 

"Hey, babe...the bed was cold without you," Felix mumbles sleepily into Jeongin's hair as he fights back a yawn, already deep voice much lower and raspier from his sleep. Jeongin tilts his head back to catch a glimpse of the blonde's unfocussed, brown eyes and his own crinkle in a smile. 

"Then you should've dragged Chan hyung onto it. I'm pretty sure he'd still stay asleep," he responds smartly, reaching up to poke Felix's dry lips and trying not to succumb to the warmth that sparked in his chest and spread across his skin. 

Felix pouts and rubs his eyes with one hand, keeping his other looped protectively around Jeongin's slim waist. "He's too heavy. Would've dropped him."

"You sure you aren't just too weak, Lixie?" Jeongin teases softly, dropping his honourifics as he raises the blonde's hand to his lips and holds his knuckles there for a few moments. He smiles against the blonde's skin, able to sense his blush although he couldn't see his face.

"Shush, I'm plenty strong," Felix grumbles, resting his chin atop Jeongin's head. 

Jeongin giggles and nods, his fingers curling around Felix's hand. "Mhm." There were few things that he could immediately think of that he loved better than slow mornings with a half-asleep Felix. No matter what weighed on his mind, the man was his anti-anxiety pill. There was just something about Felix that radiated happiness and Jeongin was drawn in magnetically like a moth to a light. 

"....you left the cereal to get soggy. Jeongin, that's a crime against humanity." 

Jeongin huffs. "Well if you're going to complain about it then why don't you eat it?" He lets the crown of his head bump back against Felix's chest playfully, fingers shifting to curl around Felix's wrists, pinning the blonde's hands to his chest. 

"Well...I mean I  _ would _ , but my hands are a bit occupied," Felix points out. Jeongin releases his wrists, but his hands remain fixed to his chest. “I wasn’t complaining,” the blonde hums, sleep still riding his every word. Jeongin chuckles in amusement and slowly rises to his feet, removing Felix’s hands from his chest. He turns around and pushes the chair away, ignoring the screeching of wood against wood. 

The blonde only whines at the loss of his support and Jeongin grins in amusement, taking Felix’s hands in his own and swinging them slightly. “You look so sleepy, Lixie, you should head back to bed and see if you can get more rest.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Felix grumbles childishly. “Just wanna…” he snakes his arms around Jeongin and clings to him sleepily. Jeongin’s eyes drift out of the kitchen and to the living room worriedly, only to find Jisung sitting upright on the couch, blanket clutched to his chest and flashing a cheeky thumbs up to him. He feels the blood rush to his face and he hides it in Felix’s shoulder out of embarrassment. 

When Jeongin feels Felix’s breaths deepen against his chest, he glances up and carefully shifts to move the blonde’s fringe out of his face. He laughs slightly when he finds Felix’s eyes closed, features lax in sleep. “What happened to not wanting to sleep?” he sighs, leaning over to plant a fond kiss on his forehead. Felix barely stirs and Jeongin carefully manoeuvres himself to pick up Felix with some effort since the man was mostly lean muscle and Jeongin, unfortunately, had been deemed the frailest person among all of them. 

Quietly, and with some struggle, he makes his way over to the staircase. Before he has the chance to suffer hefting both himself and Felix up the flight, quickly padding footsteps and a pair of arms relieve him of his burden. He glances up to find his gaze meeting a pair of catlike eyes that don’t look at him. In seconds, Minho is retreating upstairs once again, Felix comfortably in his grip. Jeongin is left to stare blankly at his retreating back, his pulse quickening.

Minho made a wave of discomfiture cascade over him, and although experience told him that the man was a decent person who hadn’t done anything wrong towards him or anyone close to him...as far as he knew anyway, he couldn’t help but reel back again and again at the thought of that man being his brother. His instinct was to bring the matter up to his parents, but Seungmin’s accusation caused a barb of distrust to spike up in his chest. He didn’t know who to trust. 

Frozen at the foot of the stairs, Jeongin is only snapped to his senses by a hand that lands firmly on his back. He glances back to find Jisung stretching his neck lazily. The brunette smelled of the sharp mint of toothpaste and faintly of something floral, but his hair was still just as much of a nest as it had been when he was asleep. Jisung meets his eyes and offers him a lazy grin. “Hey, Innie, if I wanted a statue in this house, I’d ask someone else to do it,” he hums, tugging the younger back and pushing him onto the couch.

Jeongin, somewhat caught off guard lets himself fall onto the haphazardly tossed blanket that covered the sofa and stares up at Jisung blankly while the brunette  _ finally  _ decides to comb his fingers through his unruly hair in attempts to tame it down. Jeongin raises an eyebrow at him and he rolls his eyes. “You look like you just...saw a ghost or something.” Jeongin laughs at that, but it fades off and he looks down at his feet. Jisung sighs. “Sorry, that was pretty bad, huh.” 

“It was awful. Worse than usual.” The pair turn to look at Minho as the man struts down the staircase as though he owned the area. He eyes both of them and then glares at Jisung. “If you make any more seeing a ghost jokes, I will hit you with a saucepan, H— Lee Jisung.” Minho’s gaze grows distant before focussing once again on them. 

“Well, now that I know you don’t like it, I’ll put more effort into making that joke as much as I can,” Jisung retorts. 

“I have the power to deprive you of breakfast,” Minho reminds him, only to have the younger shake his head stubbornly.

“Well, Chan hyung’s here so you can’t take away my food. He won’t let you. So there.” Jisung pokes his tongue childishly out at the elder and Minho rolls his eyes, whirling around and striding into the kitchen. Jeongin catches the smile that Minho had presumably been trying to hide from Jisung curling at the corners of his lips and he silently wonders since when the animus that drew an iron fence between them had crumbled. The tangible dislike that he had felt before seemed to have diminished, which made no sense to him. When Jisung disliked someone, it never disappeared overnight, but Jeongin could only perceive an almost playful kind of banter between them now. 

“Jeongin, you’re staring,” Jisung calls out, waving his hand in front of the younger’s eyes, snapping him back to the present. 

"Because you two aren't at each other's throats like before," Jeongin informs bluntly. "You never get over someone you don't like so easily, hyung. Don't expect me to not act surprised when you start acting all chummy with Minho hyung."

Jisung chokes at that, stunned by the unexpected verbal attack. Fortunately, or perhaps not, he doesn't need to answer, as amused laughter breaks through the consequent silence, guiding both pairs of eyes to the staircase whereupon Woojin makes his descent, the brunette's eyes crinkled. "Well, you know what they say, there's a fine line between love and hate."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Jisung squawks.

"I don't know what just happened, but Woojin hyung's probably right and you're wrong, Sung," Changbin yawns, stepping leisurely down the stairs, housecoat wrapped snugly around his toned frame. 

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Seo Changbin," Jisung snaps, and Jeongin deems the peace to officially be broken as it seemed that everyone was waking up. He smiles at the comical scene, glad to have the distraction although he would never admit it out loud. 

Things seemed to progress normally after that, almost a little too normally for Jeongin, who had expected the questions to be hurled at Minho one after the other since they were all aware that he knew more than they did. But none came. Exchanges of words were casual and lighthearted, and the more Jeongin saw it, the more it irritated him. Even Seungmin, with all his voracious appetite for knowledge, just spoke easy words. Surely he couldn't be the only one who wanted to confront the man. He couldn't be. 

Jeongin peers over at the kitchen as he lazes over a psychology textbook that Seungmin had brought from their dorm for him. He sighs and glances down at his phone as it vibrates, choosing to refuse the call when he sees his mother's contact flash over the screen. This wasn't right, this couldn't be right. Something had to be a lie...something somewhere. He groans and buries his face in a throw pillow. Worse yet, he didn't have anyone to confide in since Hyunjin and Felix were both busy outside with some kind of motion trackers attached to Kkami (Jeongin pitied what the poor dog had to deal with sometimes), Woojin was at the campus, Changbin had taken it upon himself to wander around the entire house and mark down everything that was in need of repair, and Jisung had wandered out into the forest with one of his giant sketchbooks. 

It left only Jeongin and Minho downstairs since Seungmin and Chan had last been watching recordings of surgeries upstairs in Felix's bedroom. The brunette had refused to allow Chan to make attempts to do so alone after he had passed out the first time. It had also been how most of them discovered the blonde's utter fear of blood. It was still strange to Jeongin, that Chan was so passionate in the pursuit of his studies despite the obvious and incapacitating drawback. 

Of course it wasn't their faults that they weren't currently available to at least keep him company and he wasn't about to go and cling to Felix because Felix had his work to do, and certainly not Hyunjin, who would never let him hear the end of it in his own lovingly teasing way. Jeongin sighs, lifting his head from the throw pillow and instead resting his chin on it, gazing out at Hyunjin and Felix and wistfully listening to their laughter as Felix points to something on the screen of his laptop whilst Hyunjin lifts Kkami into his lap. 

"Why the long face, cutie?" Jeongin tenses as he feels the cushion sink slightly beside him and he stiffly faces Minho, his lips pursed into a thin line. The brunette smiles at him, just as welcoming as the day after they had first met. Jeongin frowns, averting his gaze. Of course— that explained Minho's strange behaviour that first night; he had known who he was. Or even if he hadn't, he had recognized him. And Jeongin hadn't because Minho had...died before he had the chance to meet him. 

"It's nothing," he sighs, his voice somewhat distant, unsure of how he should behave around the elder. 

Minho watches him silently for a few moments that may as well have been minutes before leaning against the couch's back and crossing one leg over the other. "Don't be like that, Jeongin, I know you must be shocked." The brunette glances back at him, his lips curving into a regretful smile. "You can get angry at me if you need to, but only because you're special. I don't do this for just anyone, you know." Even the slight snark in his voice was laced with some kind of despondency that pricked at Jeongin more than it should have.

He opens his mouth, and for a few seconds just sits there with his lips parted and a conflicted light in his eyes. Eventually is lips press shut and he shakes his head, closing the textbook in his lap and setting it aside. The empty space is replaced with a throw pillow which he clutches to his chest. "I don't know what to do with you, hyung," he mumbles. "I...mum and dad lied to me? You lied to me? What's real and what isn't? I can't get angry at you because I don't know anything about you. I'm just really confused and I think that's what's making me so upset." He buries his face in the pillow. "What's going on? Hyung, who are you, really? Can I trust you? Can I trust my parents? Can I trust anyone?"

His question fades into silence, and for the longest time, no words are spoken between them. The laughter and Kkami's barks outside seem muted, and that moment in a cluttered living room seemed theirs and theirs alone. Jeongin's fingers curl viciously into the throw pillow, his breaths quieting as though even breathing too loud would upset whatever balance hung so delicately in the atmosphere between himself and Minho. 

Laughter cuts violently through the air, severing the silence anyway, and Jeongin's eyes dart back to Minho. The man's hand covers his eyes and his lips are pulled back to reveal teeth in a grin. Jeongin frowns. The brunette lowers his hand and turns to face him once again. "You're so good," Minho hums, reaching over to ruffle his hair gently, as though being rough with him would break him. "You're so good, no wonder everyone loves you." Minho's eyes soften and he turns away from the younger. "You take after your mother."

"What do you know ab—!" Jeongin's interjection is cut off by Minho's finger over his lips. 

"Your mother was my mother too for a few years." He chuckles slightly. "She had to raise me in those awkward, hormonal adolescent years. And she definitely dealt with teenage me like a star." Minho sighs. "Even if I wasn't actually her child, she treated me like I was. That included a lot of scolding…" he drifts off. "She's a good lady, I hope you're cherishing her, otherwise I might actually have a bone to pick with you, cutie."

"I really don't know how I feel about you calling me that," Jeongin remarks, voice thick with misgivings. "Or how I feel about you talking about my mum."

Minho shakes his head. "Well, we never got to meet each other. Even if it has to be like this, I'm glad I got to meet my little brother." 

Jeongin frowns. "That's...that's something else. I didn't even know you existed, hyung. There's no trace of you back at the family estate or any of the houses. No pictures or records or anything. Why are they hiding you from me?"

Minho's gaze darkens and he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Maybe to save face. Maybe because I was a disappointment and they didn't want me to tarnish their perfect image. Maybe because I never really lived up to be the son they wanted." He turns to stare at Jeongin. "You must know that being the child of businesspeople is its own tribulation."

Jeongin's eyes reflect confusion and Minho stops short for a few moments, eyeing him blankly. The blonde shakes his head. "No— they've been accommodating even though I'm pretty sickly. They worry about me a lot although I'm an adult. And they've allowed me to study to be a teacher because I want to do that instead of taking over the business. There's...they don't seem like the kind of people who'd just brand someone else as a disappointment."

The silence that follows Jeongin's words leaves him wondering if he's said the wrong thing, but he feels a coldness envelop his hand and glances down to find Minho's smaller fingers curled around it. The brunette stares intently at him. "Are you being taken care of properly?" He asks, his voice taut. "Are they taking care of you properly?"

"Yes…?" Jeongin frowns. "Hyung, if you think they're neglecting me or putting impossible expectations on me because of who they are, they aren't. They've taken care of me well."

"How about your friends? Do they know your friends? Do they know you have a boyfriend? Do they know Felix?" Jeongin inches away at the intensity in Minho's eyes, wondering why it was the elder asking so many questions when he was the one with all the questions.

Jeongin nods. "They've never met my friends before, and my mum knows Felix but I don't think my dad does yet. They've never actually met him either. Hyung, you're a bit close—" Jeongin reaches out to push Minho away and the brunette frowns, brushing down his clothes and releasing Jeongin's hand.

"Sorry—" 

Before Minho is granted the opportunity to explain himself, rapid footsteps snap them both to the present and they both turn to stare at Changbin, whose clothes were blanketed in a thin layer of dust. Jeongin sneezes, and Changbin glances over at them whilst Minho grabs a tissue and hands it to the youngest. Changbin frowns, flustered. "Hey, Minho, would you by any chance know where Jisung keeps that stupid crowbar of his?"

“Yeah, somewhere in his room,” Minho responds. “Why?” Changbin brushes off his clothes, sending puffs of dust into the air and Minho frowns. “Hey, who do you think has to clean all of that?”

“Sorry, Minho, I’ll help clean later,” Changbin dismisses without a thought. “I need to get that crowbar…” he turns and runs upstairs hastily. 

Minho glances back at Jeongin who looks equally as curious as he feels and he pushes himself to his feet. “Well, I guess we’ve figured out what we’re going to do now,” he hums, offering the youngest his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Jeongin grasps his hand and Minho chuckles. “Watch the dust, okay, cutie?”

“Stop calling me that,” Jeongin huffs, and Minho reaches over to pinch his cheek with a crinkle-eyed smile. 

When they arrive upstairs, Changbin emerges from Jisung’s room, looking all the more unkempt and gripping the peeling crowbar that Jisung still kept for whatever reason (Minho honestly didn’t need to know), before striding into Minho’s bedroom. The brunette stiffens as he watches Changbin step inside and he turns to offer Jeongin a slightly lopsided smile. “Jeongin, could you go ask Felix to come see me?” he asks quickly. “I need to talk to him.” 

The youngest seems about to argue, but in the end listens and hurries back downstairs. Minho ensures that he’s safely out of sight before hurrying into the bedroom after Changbin, eyes widening almost comically when he sees the man pulling open the closet doors and pushing aside his clothes to reveal the boarded over wall. Minho runs forward and grabs the crowbar, the blood rushing out of his extremities as he grips it.

Changbin glances back at him and frowns. “...this isn’t to damage property, I can tell that there’s some kind of space back there,” he states simply. “It won’t do any harm. And I can always put the boards back in if you want.”

“That’s not the issue here,” Minho insists, his shoulders tense. It was obvious enough to him that in a display of physical strength, Changbin would easily be able to overpower him. After all, the younger man was more muscular than him. But to his surprise, Changbin releases the crowbar, sending him reeling back. The man lunges forward and grabs him before he can make a rather painful collision with the corner of his desk and tugs him close to help him regain his balance. 

“What’s the issue then?” Changbin asks, sounding more confused than anything. Minho looks away from him, and Changbin breathes out a sigh, releasing him and moving to sit down on the bed. “You’re acting weird again, Minho. I told you to talk to me if there’s something on your mind.”

“That’s the thing,” Minho sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know. I just...suddenly got a feeling that I needed to stop you. And get you away from there.”

“Well, then why don’t we find out if neither of us know?” Changbin hums, standing upright again and grabbing the crowbar from him. 

“Wait—” Minho’s voice catches in his throat as the man wedges the crowbar beneath one of the splintering boards and heaves it back. With a resounding cracking, the board comes out of its place and hangs from where it’s nailed to the other side of what opening it was covering. Immediately a dense, rotting stench encompasses the room and Changbin automatically raises a hand to cover his nose and mouth, his brow furrowed. The colour drains from Minho’s face and he freezes on the bed, staring blankly at the crack of darkness revealed by the removed board.

“Something stinks,” a low voice complains and Minho glances back to find Felix covering his face as he reluctantly steps into the room. “What did you eat? Jeez—” 

Minho waves him over urgently when he catches sight of a wide-eyed Jeongin at the door, mask over his face. He stares intently at the blonde and pulls him down by the back of his head. “Keep Jeongin away from here. I don’t care what you have to do, go take him on a date or study with him. Just keep him out of here. Don’t ask questions.” Minho waves off Felix who just eyes him in puzzlement before leading Jeongin off with a few muttered words. 

“What are you two doing in here?” this time the harrowed voice evokes from Seungmin as his head pops out of the door of Felix’s bedroom. He storms into Minho’s bedroom, one hand on his hip and a frown creasing his brow. “Chan hyung fainted.” 

“Fainted..?” Changbin shoots upright, dropping the crowbar and hurrying out of the room, presumably to assure himself that the blonde was all right. Seungmin follows after him, and Minho watches them go in silence. He turns back to the partially deboarded opening in the wall and frowns, chills running down his spine. A sense of foreboding crawls up his skin and he rubs his arms, quickly turning to run out of the room in pursuit of the other two, a sudden need for company coming over him.

Upon arriving in Felix’s room, stacked with books and plush creatures of all sizes, Minho finds Changbin and Seungmin hovering over the bed, whereupon the blonde was set. Minho frowns. Chan looked paler than usual, which was saying something, considering the man’s complexion was already quite fair. Minho frowns and moves to the bedside, eyeing the man’s face. 

“What happened?” Changbin asks, his voice strained.

Seungmin shakes his head. “I insisted that he stop watching his surgery videos since he was already looking a little pale so he was working on his research paper instead while I was reviewing my advanced English. And then whatever you guys were doing caused that smell and he started looking lightheaded so I opened the window. He ended up passing out anyway.” Seungmin frowns. “What was that?”

“We’re not sure, that’s why I insisted on looking into it,” Changbin admits regretfully. “You know me, if there are hidden passages or rooms I need to see what’s in there.” He crosses his arms defensively. “It’s what’s the most interesting to build, but I don’t see why there would be something like that here.” 

Breathing out a harsh sigh, Seungmin steps away from the bed and pushes the window open as wide as it would go. “Then let’s go find out,” he decides. 

Minho backs away to obstruct the door. “Isn’t that...not a good idea?” he argues. “Shouldn’t we just put the board back?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “I need to find out what’s causing that reek.” He glances over at Chan. “And hopefully get rid of it.” The brunette rests his palm against Chan’s forehead and then leans down to press a soft kiss to his temple. The blonde’s resting features, which were twisted into a troubled grimace, relaxes slightly. Seungmin strides past Minho and reenters the bedroom only to reel back and cover his face.

Minho follows him resignedly, his gaze oddly vacant, and Changbin hurries after both of them, retrieving the crowbar from where he had abandoned it on the ground. “Should we?” Seungmin, one hand covering his face nods and waves for him to go. 

Hooking and levering the boards of wood from the wall only results in a stronger odour of festering flesh and rot to permeate through the air. Seungmin frowns and lowers his hand, silently running around to open whatever doors and windows he can find and grabbing disposable masks from the shelf, tossing a pair to Hyunjin who had peeked inside the house out of curiosity only to promptly choke on his own saliva and run back outside. 

Seungmin returns to the room and tosses a mask to Minho and Changbin. The younger of the pair pauses to slip it on gratefully while Minho just sets his mask aside. Seungmin pulls his own mask over his face and moves the boards aside on the floor of the bedroom so that no one would accidentally trip over them. He frowns, staring into the closet. There’s an opening, much like a doorway, but without a door, covered by tightly packed wooden boards in an orderly arrangement. 

Retrieving his phone, Seungmin turns his flashlight towards the darkness of the doorway as Changbin tears the last board out of its place. He peers at the staircase and his eyes widen at the discolouration over the wood, visibly dark and evidently out of place. His brow furrows and he glances back at Changbin. “Should we check it out?”

“Can’t do much harm at this point,” Changbin decides, and the pair turn to eye Minho. 

The man sits rigid on the bed, his eyes wide as saucers and fixed on the doorway as though he couldn’t see anything else. Changbin lowers the crowbar and tilts his head, pulling his mask down. “You coming with us, Minho?” he asks.

“N-no—” The word itself seems forced and Seungmin shakes his head. 

“You stay here, we’ll be back in a moment,” the younger calls before heading up the narrow staircase with the flashlight from his phone to guide himself. Beneath his footsteps, the old wood creaks and whines in complaint from its rest being disturbed by his weight. He glances back at Changbin. “This must be an attic,” he muses. “Attic doors are normally obscure, right?”

“Well, yes, but…” Changbin winces. “That smell is seriously getting worse. You think a rat died in here or something?” He feels around the wall when they finally reach the presumed attic in search of a lightswitch. Against his fingers the wood feels somewhat soft and damp. It made sense since they were in the area most susceptible to being damaged by rain, but even then it felt strangely discomfiting to touch. His fingers curl back reflexively and he reaches out after a moment to gather himself, feeling against the wood. When Seungmin doesn’t respond, he frowns and glances back at the brunette. “Seungmin?”

“...I—I don’t think it was a rat, hyung,” Seungmin breathes, his voice airy as though he hadn’t had enough breath to speak properly. He inches forward and kneels down, flashlight motioned towards the source of his horror. When Changbin catches sight of it, the man’s hand flies to his mouth in attempts to clamp down the urge to either shriek or retch. His gut twists and his mind grows blank with fright. The blood rushes out of his face and his legs grow suddenly weak. He closes his eyes and stumbles slightly as he tries to regain his centre of balance. 

The grinning skull was encroached by mold, the dried remains of maggots and other scavenging bugs laying in its eye sockets and jaws. It was a frightful, half-eaten sight, bones so dirtied by the surrounding decay that it was nothing half as pretty as the dried, bleached-white bones Seungmin was accustomed to seeing. By its sides were the rest of the remains, every bone intact and rusted with organic matter, a sheet of dust soaked over the larvae that squirmed out of its joints. The floor creaks beneath them as their steps form an erratic beat of attempted balance with the foreboding wails of old wood accompanying them.

Seungmin doesn’t dare move any closer to the skeleton for fear of what else he’d find. He swallows back the bile that had crept up his throat, a sudden understanding of what must have happened for Minho to react as he had dawning on him. It was different from seeing a decaying body that he had no attachment to or knowledge of. It was different when he had spoken with the person that was now these scavenged bones, when he had befriended him. He feels his eyes warm and begin to water and he backs away from the dreadful scene of the skeleton enshrined in the rotting attic. Feeling his back knock against Changbin, he swallows the urge to burst into tears then and there. 

“Hyung...hyung, let’s leave. Let’s get out of here,” he whispers, his voice trapped within his throat. 

“Let’s,” Changbin agrees just as softly, turning and stumbling down the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because things can never stay too peaceful for long~  
> Thank you very much for taking the time out of your day to read, and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Until next time <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers, welcome to the next chapter  
> It came up a little late this time, I'm sorry about that  
> Thank you kindly again for all your support and I'm sure things are pretty confusing, but things will get more confusing before they clear up ^^  
> Without further ado, lets get into it !

The sound of muffled sobbing chases the cloudiness out of Chan's mind and he blinks away the spots in his vision, his head turning to stare at Seungmin's back, the younger man seated on the edge of the bed, curled in on himself with trembling shoulders and soft gasps every now and then from the effort it took to quiet himself down. Chan closes his eyes, fighting away the headache that pressed at his temples and that awful stench that was still wafting through the house, although not so powerfully as before. 

A frown curls onto his lips and he carefully sits up, shifting closer to the brunette and wrapping his arms around him from behind, resting his forehead against the nape of Seungmin's neck. "Hey...what's wrong, baby?" He asks softly, the words rolling off his tongue gently, interlaced with concern. 

"Oh— hyung, you're awake," Seungmin breathes out, his voice slightly hoarse and wavering. "Are you feeling all right? You just passed out earlier, let me get you water—" Before Chan can argue, the brunette disappears, footsteps quick over the wooden floor. 

Left alone with his thoughts, Chan massages his temples tiredly and winces, covering his mouth and nose as nausea threatens to crawl into his head and daze him again. He swallows back the urge to vomit and closes his eyes, a shudder running down his spine. Although he didn't have any idea what was going on, his body raised itself on high alert, whirling vivid memories to the forefront of his consciousness. He always slightly and catches himself with an arm propped up on the mattress. He'd recognize this reek anywhere…

"Hyung!" Seungmin rushes back into the room with a glass of water and sets it down on the side table before quickly reaching out to steady him, holding his shoulders with one arm. When Chan succumbs to the comfort of leaning against the brunette's shoulder, Seungmin retrieves the glass with his free hand and holds it to Chan's lips, helping him drink. Chan laughs dryly. 

"Baby, I'm supposed to be the one helping you out— what's this?" he jokes, closing his eyes once again to fight off the wave of dizziness that bombarded his senses. 

"Just shut up and let me help you out for once, hyung," Seungmin murmurs, planting a kiss in his curly hair that took the attention of his mind and presented him with something to focus on. The dizziness fades slightly and his lips curl upwards.

It takes a few minutes and a few more sips of water for Chan to finally regain his composure enough to sit upright and open his eyes for more than seconds at a time. He turns to face Seungmin only to find blotchy patches of red on his face and swollenness around his eyes. Chan reaches up to hold the brunette's head in both hands, gently massaging Seungmin's flushed skin with his thumbs. "Tell me everything," he states, his voice finally steady. 

And Seungmin does tell him everything, from checking in on Changbin and Minho to removing the boards from the attic entrance to stumbling on a decaying skeleton in said attic—Minho's skeleton, Seungmin emphasized, on the brink of tears again—and then to retreating back into Felix's bedroom after without having exchanged any words with Minho. After the initial shock of the revelation, Chan quietly listens to him ramble, watches the warm droplets run down his cheeks and his words become tight as speaking itself becomes a struggle for him.

Seungmin was hopelessly invested in anyone that became his friend whether consciously or no, and that was something Chan had learned the hard way. There was nothing that could hurt the young man more than seeing his loved ones suffer. And Chan knows all too well how that feels. Perhaps it was that ability to empathize with each other on that same plane that led them to each other and knitted them together. One among the many reasons at least. 

Reaching up, Chan brushes away the tears that turn cold against Seungmin's skin, tender from crying. He leans in close and plants a soft kiss to the brunette's underlids before pulling him close to his chest and letting Seungmin curl there for a bit. It wasn't often that the younger showed the sensitive side of himself, more accustomed to a livelier, bounce-back attitude, so it wasn't often that Chan found himself with a crying Seungmin, but whenever he did, he cherished it just as much as he did the smiles and laughter and scolding and frustration because they were all facets of the person he loved. 

Seungmin sniffles against his chest and clings to him quietly while he rubs soothing circles against the brunette's back. Eventually Seungmin falls silent altogether and Chan buries his face in his hair relaxing with him for a few moments. Finally he shifts back to find the brunette peering up at him with a slightly rueful smile. He grins. "Hey, prince," he greets. "Feeling better?"

A slight pink steals over the brunette's cheeks and he scrambles upright, scratching the back of his neck. "Do you really need to ask, hyung?" He huffs.

"Hey, let me have that sweet, sweet validation," Chan jokes, earning himself eyerolls and a sweet, crinkle-eyed smile.

"You always make me feel better, hyung. I'm still not sure how, but you do." He pauses. "Also, if you really want validation, you're better off asking Hyunjin." Seungmin reaches up to prod Chan's forehead, brushing the man's curly fringe from his eyes in the process.

"Don't feel like getting shot down so soon," Chan responds frankly and Seungmin laughs. The blonde glances at the door and his smile fades. "...is everyone all right? Does everyone know what happened?"

"I don't think so," comes the response. "Minho had sent away Felix and Jeongin. I think...he wanted to protect them from discovering...that. Jisung hasn't been back since he went out. The dumbass is probably lost somewhere in the forest—" Seungmin catches the sharp glance that Chan throws him and he sighs. "He's fine. Sometimes he gets into his moods and he works on something for hours on end without even realizing it. Kind of like you, hyung." Seungmin cracks his wrists absently. "Changbin hyung knows, and so do you and I. I don't know whether Hyunjin knows yet and Woojin hyung's probably still at the clinic right now."

Chan sighs and nods, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. "...I think that maybe we should let Minho have his privacy," the blonde decides. "It must be just as hard for him, having to carry all of this on his shoulders then suddenly have people barge in and uncover everything." Chan rises to his feet and gathers his strength. "I need to be at the hospital tomorrow morning to work anyway." He glances over at Seungmin. "Don't argue with me this time, I know you probably want to stay, but I'm sure Jeongin wants to talk to you in private about all of this." The blonde offers him a rueful smile. "It's going to be hard on him too."

Seungmin's lips, which had been parted to give a natural dissent, purse shut and press together, a habit of his that Chan found terribly cute. The blonde leans over and pecks his pouting lips before padding towards the door, grabbing a disposable mask and slipping it over his face. "But first let's get rid of that smell as best as we can.” He rolls up his sleeves and Seungmin traces the black lines that contrasted starkly against his milky skin with his eyes. Chan frowns when he feels slim fingers grab at his wrist and tug him back. He glances back at the brunette only to find Seungmin's lips pressed to his upper arm. 

He looks away, a prick of a bittersweet feeling spiking within his chest, and tugs his arm out of the brunette's grasp. "Do you feel up to helping me?" He asks, his voice crisp and suddenly businesslike. He doesn't have to glance back to feel the frown pressed onto Seungmin's features, but the brunette stands nonetheless and pushes up his own sleeves.

"I'll grab us gloves and ask Hyunjin to take me to the town to grab baking soda," Seungmin states, his own voice becoming calm and frank. He glances back at Chan. "...be careful in there, all right?"

"I'll be fine, Minnie. If worst comes to worst then I'm sure Woojin and I have room for one temporarily." Chan offers him a smile and Seungmin huffs.

"You know that's not what I meant, hyung," he mumbles before striding past the blonde and hurrying downstairs.

Chan sighs and pulls his mask over his face once again, subconsciously holding his breath even then as he pads closer to Minho's bedroom. He raps his knuckles against the door to announce his presence before carefully pushing it open and peering in. He exhales when he finds Minho seated at his desk, bearing morosely over some kind of book and looking much paler than Chan had seen him before. When he opens the door further, the creaking hinges alert Minho of his presence. The brunette lifts his head and shuts the book abruptly. "Oh— you."

"Nice to see you too," Chan huffs, his voice muffled beneath the mask. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to steel himself; the scent of death lingered in the air alongside the stench of decay, and an immense nausea washes over Chan as the festering diffuses into that cloying sweetness to create a horrifyingly vivid reek. He opens his eyes after a few moments, his gaze unfocussed. Fingers suddenly curl around his forearms and he feels himself led to the bed and sat down. He stares up to find Minho's concerned eyes gazing back at him.

"What are you doing in here? You were just passed out," Minho scolds sharply. "And you look about to pass out again."

Chan waves him away offhandedly. "I'm fine," he insists. "Used to it." When Minho's eyes narrow at the careless remark, Chan's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "I mean— I should get used to it if I have to study about it—" The save seems to satisfy Minho, who only turns his back to him with a sigh. 

"I'm guessing that Seungmin must have told you."

Chan tilts his head slightly. "About ..?"

The brunette whips around to face him, his eyes widening into a blank glare. "Don't play dumb with me, Chan. If you want me to say what you already know, I don't see a point in wasting my breath."

The blonde's ease seeps away into something graver and he nods. "You're right. I'm sorry," he sighs. "Yes, Seungmin told me everything." He tilts his head up at Minho. "How are you feeling?" He asks, worry creeping into his voice despite himself.

"I don't know, Chan, how would you feel if your personal information was researched and disclosed nonconsensually?" Minho retorts, and the blonde winces. Minho eyes him up and down, absorbing everything he could see unconsciously. "But wait, I suppose I have no say in it either way because I'm dead, so who cares if it goes public, right?" He crosses his arms over his chest. "It took a while, but I can remember everything now." Minho sighs and retreats back to his desk, massaging his temples. "Tell me, Chan. Does the name Lucas Bang ring a bell?"

Whatever blood remained in Chan's face drains out entirely leaving his skin ashen and his eyes wide. His features fall slack and blood rushes in his ears as his heart pounds obnoxiously loud within his chest. He reaches up to grip at his chest and tear off his mask, his veins burning as his lips part. "H-how...how do you know who Lucas is?" He rasps, his voice losing all trace of warmth. His vision turns red and he shoots to his feet, his eyes blazing. Rushing forward, he grabs Minho by the collar, his face twisting into something uncharacteristic, something so enraged that Minho's eyes widen in shock. "Why do you know my brother?" Chan demands, his voice deathly quiet and equally still, yet holding a certain menace that Minho recognized all too well. Eyes glassy and hands trembling with agitation, Chan clenches Minho's shirt tightly enough for his veins to protrude starkly from beneath his pale skin. 

Minho, startled by the unexpected aggression, reaches up to grip Chan's wrists in attempts to wrench him away, but the man had an alarming amount of strength in his arms, and Minho finds that he can't budge them an inch. He pulls away from the blonde. "Don't touch me!"

"Tell me how you know him!" Chan demands, pulling Minho back again, his fingers crumpling the man's shirt, straining and stretching the fabric. 

Minho shakes his head. "I'm not telling you anything while you're like this!" He insists, struggling to move out of the blonde's hold, flinching at the rage that seemed to emanate off of him. He should have known better—he hadn't foreseen such a violent reaction since the man was typically mild mannered and understanding from what he had gathered so far. This was almost someone else entirely, someone who was the antithesis of the Chan that presented itself in any other case. Minho wills himself to keep his head on, his eyes meeting Chan's tear-glazed ones. "Calm down..!"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Chan's voice grows hoarser with each word. "Why do you know my brother, Minho? Who are you?" The man's brow furrows and he yanks Minho closer by collar once again. Minho, understanding the gravity of the situation, tears himself away from Chan just as the door of the bedroom flies open, leaving the buttons of his striped shirt torn out by the blonde's iron grip.

"Chan—!" Minho stares, wide-eyed as the blonde is restrained by a pair of arms and pushed onto the bed by Woojin, who holds him down by the shoulders. "Snap out of it!" The brunette stares down into Chan's defiant eyes until they suddenly lose their edge and meet his gaze blankly. He sighs and climbs off of the man. Chan sits upright slowly, as though roused out of a daze, and rubs his forehead slowly. His eyes widen, stunned, and Seungmin silently shifts to lace his fingers with him.

"Minho, are you okay?" Changbin hurries forward and helps Minho to his feet. Minho accepts the hand tentatively and pulls himself to his feet, the front of his striped dress shirt coming undone, revealing his body. Changbin offers him a rueful smile only to stop short when he’s standing on his feet and stare wide-eyed at his chest. Minho, catching his line of sight, gasps and pulls his shirt closed, hugging the fabric against himself defensively. The younger man falters back, blood draining from his face, and bites at his liprings. "I— Oh.."

Minho's lips curl into a lopsided, humourless smile and he turns his head away from Changbin. "I guess there isn't anything I can hide even if I try," he mutters in resignation. 

"No— I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"What's the point?" Minho sighs, lowering his arms and letting the front of his shirt hang open. He raises his chin defiantly and stares at Changbin. "There's no point in trying to hide any more, right?" He laughs bitterly. The ruined shirt frames his lean body, which wouldn't have been as startling as it was, was it not for the gaping cavity that stretched from Minho's collar down his abdomen, the fleshy red of his muscle and white lines of his ligaments gleaming behind bleached sternum, ribs, and spine, his bones exposed obscenely. 

Woojin pads past them both and peers into the closet, eyeing the doorway at the back wall. He skims over it calmly and reaches to retrieve another shirt from a hanger. Without much comment, he hands the shirt to Minho and offers him a smile. "Excuse Chan. His family isn't an easy topic for him," he hums before turning around without so much as a glance down. Minho stares at his retreating back in astonishment before taking the opportunity to quickly remove his shirt, only exposing the extent of the damage on his body. He turns his back to them and slips on the shirt that Woojin had given him and hastily buttons it up to the collar. 

When he turns back, it’s to find four pairs of eyes staring at him and he frowns. “Sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Chan suddenly speaks up, looking much calmer, but also much guiltier. Minho notices that Chan’s hand is tightly clasped in Seungmin’s. “I lost my composure completely. I could’ve hurt you— I’m sorry.” 

Minho can’t help but smile slightly at the apology. “You wouldn’t be able to hurt me no matter what you did, Chan. It’s my fault for provoking you.” 

“You wouldn’t have known...you might have, actually,” Chan muses slowly. “But I don’t think it was your intention to provoke me. And I snapped at you anyway. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” 

Minho shrugs and moves away from Changbin to sit down at his desk. “Well, what’s done is done,” he states, his voice becoming crisp. “We were both in the wrong and we’ve both apologized, so let’s move on.” he crosses his arms over his chest. “But now that you’ve...seen that,” he jerks his neck towards the closet, “and seen this,” he lays a hand on his chest, “what do you want?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Woojin breaks in. “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised to see it for myself,” the man motions towards Minho’s abdomen, “but it makes sense.” He tilts his head. “I wasn’t sure at first, but now I know.” Woojin offers the brunette a warm, slightly rueful smile. “It’s sad, how there’s so much evil in the world, right?” Minho’s eyes widen slightly and Woojin taps his lips with a knuckle. “It started with a little research into Jisung’s background…” 

“Jisung? What does Jisung have to do with this?” Minho interjects sharply, almost a little too quickly, both Changbin and Seungmin nodding in curiosity of his sentiment.

“I know you want to tell me to keep Jisung out of it,” Woojin cuts straight to the point. “And I have no intention of dragging him back into the past. I’m only saying that’s what managed to draw the line that connected the two of you. You’ve known Jisung for a while, haven’t you?”

“That’s— hyung, what are you talking about?” Seungmin interjects with a frown. “Jisung would’ve told me if he knew Minho anytime previously. All he’s told me is that Minho gets on his nerves.” 

A bark of laughter escapes Minho’s lips at that and he tilts his head. “I’m glad he lost his memory. It’s easier that way.” Seungmin’s eyes narrow and his gaze settles intently on Minho. The elder meets his eyes and raises his hands disarmingly. “Look at him— he told me that he doesn’t remember anything before being taken into Felix’s family. Isn’t it better for him that way? He only has memories of a family that loves him and friends that support him.” 

“That’s what one would think, yes,” Woojin muses slowly with a thoughtful nod. 

Changbin, who had previously been silent during the exchange finally speaks up. “But isn’t that also robbing him of his right to know who he is? I’m just saying this because I have no idea what’s going on right now. I mean it’d annoy me if everyone knew who I was except me.” 

Woojin casts him a calculating glance. “There’s much to be said about that, you’re right,” he concedes. “But there’s a difference between being told who you are or were, and remembering it for yourself. All the facts are currently buried in Jisung’s mind past the reach of his immediate consciousness; they’re still there. If we, not knowing all the facts, were to tell him, there’s no guarantee he would remember for himself. We would be the ones putting fake memories in his head. So it wouldn’t be fair to tell him either.” Woojin glances back at Minho. “Do you think that Felix knows?”

Minho shakes his head. “I doubt it. Unless he’s that exceptional of an actor, no one who knows would be able to act like he does in front of Jisung so consistently,” Minho replies. “And honestly, I’m not sure if I want him to know either. He’s not...cold enough to handle it.” 

“Sorry if I’m missing something here,” Changbin interjects again, looking between the two in befuddlement. “But care to let the rest of us know what the hell you two are talking about?”

“Patience, Changbin, dear,” Minho drawls sarcastically and the man rolls his eyes.

"It's wearing real thin with you talking like that, Minho," he huffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking a pierced eyebrow.

"If you two are done flirting," Seungmin interjects, earning himself a pair of scandalized stares from the two, "I'd like to know what's going on too, and I'm pretty sure Chan hyung wants an explanation as well, so if you would kindly cut to the chase…"

"See? Why can't we all learn how to be as polite as Seungmin?" Minho pipes up dryly. 

"Because not all of us are wordy, sarcastic brats," Changbin retorts. 

Seungmin's eyes widen indignantly at that and he leans over to smack Changbin's bicep, pouting slightly. "You're mean, hyung."

"I'm not the one that just hit someone!" Changbin yelps. 

Seungmin can't quite help the amusement that curls onto his lips and Minho watches the four of them, who appeared much calmer than beforehand, especially Chan. The blonde hadn't spoken a word other than to apologize, and even know only remained silent, his dark eyes watching the banter progress with a certain familiar warmth. Minho almost found it difficult to believe that this was the man that seemed prepared to hurl him across the bedroom a few minutes ago. 

That's right, it was at the mention of his family member. Minho could understand that family could be a sensitive topic, but he hadn't applied that possibility to Chan, which was rather shameful now that he considered it. He sighs and takes his fingers through his hair before lifting his gaze and resting it on Woojin. "I want to know how exactly you found out," he suddenly insists. 

The attention is turned to Woojin, who seems perfectly unruffled. He eyes Minho carefully before speaking. "It began with observing your behaviour around Jisung," he informs frankly. "You've known each other for a short time, but you communicate with him like you've been his acquaintance for years. You got unreasonably worried about him although there was no apparent reason for it. But the key was that you didn't treat Felix the same way. So the question arose of who Jisung really is, and why you behave the way you do towards him."

"People interact differently with different people though," Minho points out. "Besides, Jisung seems like the kind of guy that could burn water. Isn't it normal to feel a bit concerned?"

"Nope," Seungmin answers almost immediately. "Stupid is as stupid does. You get used to it after a while."

“You make a fair point,” Minho concurs. He nods for Woojin to go on. “So you became suspicious of Jisung because of me.” 

“That’s generalizing it a little more than necessary,” Woojin remarks, vague amusement slipping into his gaze. “But I asked Hyunjin to help me look into Jisung’s past.” He shrugs. “He’s a lot more tech-savvy than I am. And he found a few old news articles of Jisung.”

Minho nods slowly. “So the press found out, huh.” 

“It’s a little difficult to not take notice when you find a little boy that’s barely old enough to talk properly out in the dark of night, drugged and wounded,” Woojin states bluntly. 

Seungmin’s eyes widen at that and his grip on Chan’s hand falls limp. “J-Jisung?” he stammers. “We’re talking about Jisung, right? As...as in Lee Jisung?” His face grows pale and he draws in a trembling breath. “What— what happened?”

“Han Jisung. His name was Han Jisung before he was adopted. He was taken to the hospital and treated. When his parents couldn’t be located, he was then put up for adoption and adopted by Felix’s family. The police looked into his case, and it was assumed that he was one of the child-trafficking victims of Black Tiger…” Woojin’s eyes fixate Minho. “But now I’m beginning to think that wasn’t the exact case.” 

“Wait—” Chan murmurs. “Did you say Black Tiger? The criminal syndicate?” Minho winces, feeling rather sorry for the blonde who looked more like a ghost than he himself did, he was so pale. It seemed that, with every new revelation, more blood seemed to leave Chan’s face. However, this time Chan remains gathered, although it’s with evident effort, blue branches protruding from beneath his skin as his hands curl into tight fists. “Black Tiger kidnapped Jisung?”

“Black Tiger?” Seungmin echoes. “They’re notorious. A lot of the underlings have been apprehended, but no one has actually been able to pinpoint their head although it's been investigated for a while…" Seungmin's eyes narrow. "Their activity spiked when we were children, so it does...make sense that Jisung could have been one of their targets.." he drifts off when he hears a trembling breath from beside himself and glances over to find Chan staring blankly at Minho with a haunted look in his eyes. Seungmin closes his eyes, drawing in a quiet breath and resting his hand atop of the blonde's.

Woojin purposefully turns to meet Chan’s eyes, nodding slowly. “Hear me out, Chan.” He turns to face Minho. “Hyunjin decided to delve into Black Tiger—” 

“He casually decided to look into it?” Minho suddenly barks, his eyes darting back to Woojin. “Is he insane? Doesn’t he realize how dangerous that is?” Minho’s voice is slightly higher pitched than normal, laced with incredulity. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“Unfortunately I’m not,” Woojin responds coolly. "It shocked me too, but Hyunjin has always been reckless with things that could be dangerous…" the man's eyes soften. "Although he's also the kind of person who gets startled by loud noises and cries while watching sentimental scenes in movies.." He clears his throat. "That being said, with a little of his expertise, he managed to dig up some information on them."

"What does he think he is?" Minho bursts, eyes wide. "Some kind of information broker? He's going to get himself killed!"

Cracking his knuckles nervously, Changbin looks from one to the other, his brow furrowed. "But what does Black Tiger have to do with Minho knowing Jisung?" He asks, cornering the heart of the matter once again. "I should probably be a little worried that we're dealing with the biggest underground syndicate in the country right now, but…" he purses his lips. "I guess we're already in too deep to drop out whether we like it or not."

His words cause a spark of guilt to burn in Minho's attention. His goal of keeping them away from the situation had failed miserably, more so than he had predicted. And now they were hopelessly entangled in this mess. He lowers his head into his hands and massages his temples before sighing and sitting upright once again, a humourless smile on his lips. It didn't reach his eyes, which glinted coldly like steel. 

"Minho admitted to his parents being the instigators of his murder," Woojin states evenly. "With a bit of digging around, Hyunjin was able to discover a key figure of Black Tiger." He sighs and quiets down, as though debating on whether he should continue, but when he sees two expectant gazes on himself, namely Seungmin and Changbin's, he gives in resignedly and faces Minho. "Your father. The head of Yang Enterprises, one of the nation's economic powerhouses."

"What?!" Seungmin leaps to his feet, whirling around to face Woojin with saucer eyes. "The Yang head is part of Black Tiger?" His breath catches in his throat. "Hyung, that can't be. Black Tiger is a national threat— there's no way that…" he drifts off weakly as Woojin raises a finger to his lips, ever as serene as always.

"Sit down," Woojin tells him, brooking no room for argument. Grudgingly, Seungmin settles down on the edge of the mattress again. The elder sets his palms flat on his lap and watches Minho intently. The brunette had yet to make any remark, and the expression in his eyes remained indecipherable. Woojin huffs softly. "Therefore, the reason they know each other is that Minho's father is the one responsible for Jisung's kidnapping. But it wasn't the kind of trafficking for labour or sexual purposes. And now that I've seen it…" Woojin makes an obscure gesture at Minho's torso, "I know what it was."

Chan buries his head in his hands. "Oh, god—" he holds a hand to his mouth, his skin taking on a sickly, greenish tint. Seungmin's hands immediately shift to rub his back and rest firmly on his chest, supporting him.

"Hyung—"

Chan coughs and closes his eyes, shivering. "I'm fine. Go on, Woojin."

Concern shines in the man's eyes, but he nods nonetheless and turns back to Minho. "I have no proof yet, but I want you to confirm it for me," he tells Minho directly. "Yang is a higher-up of Black Tiger's organ-mongers. I've said before that a common trait of their victims is a near perfect if not perfect health record. It's because they would take the organs of those people and sell them. Jisung was one of the people who were groomed to become red market merchandise. You were the one who saved him, but because of that treachery you were disemboweled despite being the Yang heir. That's how you really died, Minho."

* * *

The freckles that dust Felix's face stand out starkly against a backdrop of white as his skin takes on a pallor. He falters away from the door and stumbles down the hallway with a deathly silence overcoming him. He shakily tugs his phone from his pocket and he treads unsteadily over the stairs, hurrying out of the cabin altogether. He rushes past Jisung without so much as a word to him and slides into the passenger's seat of Jeongin's convertible. 

"Wow, hello to you too!" Jisung calls before returning his attention to document on the screen of his laptop and cursing art history for being so damn boring. He ruffles Kkami's ears and sits the dog on his lap. The pup was ample procrastination material.

Jeongin casts a side glance at Felix and frowns. "Hyung, are you okay? You don't look too good." 

Felix laughs, offering the younger man a smile. "It's fine, Jeonginnie. Sungie's face has that effect sometimes." He frowns slightly. "Do you think Seungmin will mind if I stay the night?" He pouts. "It smells awful in there. Maybe that's why I look weird." He shrugs and buckles his seatbelt, trying to wash everything he had heard from his memory just for these few moments. 

"You can sleep on my bed, I'm sure he won't mind," Jeongin assures, pulling out over the dirt road and riding through the forest, the engine a low rumble among the otherwise quiet air. Oddly enough, even the constant chirruping of the forest creatures were imperceptible, as though they had all run into hiding from a predator. 

Felix sighs and messes with his hair, leaving it a nestlike, golden pile atop his head. "Thanks, babe." He leans back in the leather seat and closes his eyes. "How have you been doing lately? It's been a lot for you." Felix frowns, his eyes cracking open slightly to cast a side-glance at the younger. "You look so tired lately, Innie. You've been thinking about this a lot right?"

Jeongin's smile dissipates as he continues to drive, fingernails digging into the wheel. He frowns. "I got to talk to Minho hyung earlier. It's just so weird, you know? He knows my family even though I don't know him. And he seems genuine...I really want to believe in him, but…" Jeongin drifts off and shakes his head. "My parents aren't bad people— if I trust him, then that means I'm admitting that my parents are liars, but if I don't then...I don't know, Lixie, I really don't know."

"Hey, Innie, come here," Felix hums when they roll to a stop at the red light. He reaches over and tugs Jeongin's head close, planting a peck on his temple and staying there for a few seconds. When he moves back, Jeongin lets out a slight giggle, cheeks faintly pink. Felix smiles warmly at that and bumps his forehead against Jeongin's temple before moving back. "It's okay. It's okay to not know things. I'll be with you until you figure it out." He smiles. "So be confused for as long as you need to."

"Hyung, that's weirdly comforting and not comforting at the same time," Jeongin teases with a chuckle. 

"Doesn't that describe us perfectly?" Felix counters with a grin.

The pink on the younger man's cheeks deepens in hue. "...fair enough."

They fall into silence again and Felix's smile fades into a neutral frown. He sighs and stares distantly out the window at the obscenely sunny sky. The ambiance of the entire scene seemed too calm, too peaceful, too wrong of an accompaniment to what he had eavesdropped— overheard, from Minho's room. He bites his lip, his fingers naturally rising to his neck to feel about for his pulse point. He felt a little bad for leaving Jisung alone, but he wasn't sure he could face the brunette without spilling out everything he had heard. There were little to no secrets between them; it was difficult to even try to hide things from Jisung, whom he had told everything to for as long as he could remember. But this was something he couldn't afford to disclose.

He must have zoned out like that, staring blankly out of the window, since the next thing that he registers is a pair of hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. He blinks owlishly, his gaze refocussing and his mind returning to the present to find Jeongin staring down at him with a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “Lix? We’re here.”

“Already?” Felix takes a moment to soak in his surroundings, eyeing the familiar, uniform building that made the dormitory in the near distance. His lips purse into a thin line and he nods. “Looks like already.” He emerges from the convertible, eyeing the people that watch them. He eyes Jeongin and smiles. “I forget how popular you are sometimes,” he hums.

“Me? Popular..?” Jeongin echoes skeptically. 

Felix’s eyes widen. He shuts the door of the convertible, careful to not leave a scratch or anything since although Jeongin was rich and too nice to hold it against him, Felix would still feel guilty. “Babe, not to be rude or anything but are you blind? Literally everyone turns to look at you when you walk into a room. Have you seriously never overheard any of the girls talking about you?” 

Jeongin grins, somewhat mischievously. “You think I pay attention to other people when I have you to focus on?” And finally, Felix feels his ears warm. He reaches up to cover them with his hands before the redness spreads to his cheeks. Jeongin pecks his cheek and laughs. “Besides, you should hear what they say about you sometimes.” 

“I thought you only paid attention to me?” Felix teases, slipping his hand into the younger’s and gripping it loosely.

“Shhh, small details,” Jeongin insists, padding over the asphalt of the parking lot towards the dorms. 

Felix hooks his chin over Jeongin’s shoulder and awkwardly lops over the ground as they walk, his gaze growing distant again. Part of him wanted to keep talking about something— _anything_ —to avoid thinking about the things he had heard. Thinking about it itself already made him feel rather sick. He swears that that pound cake and latte that he had earlier wanted to make a rather unsavoury cameo reappearance.

Quietly he lets Jeongin lead them to his and Seungmin’s dorm room, one of the smaller ones with their beds, desks and kitchen in the same general area. It was small, but snug and although Felix had never been a fan of places that felt engineered and had little personality, this small area with the controlled mess that announced a pair of young adults just freshly emerging from being teenagers was comforting in an odd way. Felix breathes out a huff of amusement. As Jeongin had mentioned before, it did seem to suit them.

He immediately tumbles onto Jeongin’s bed with a grin, grabbing his game console. “So, do I get to beat you miserably again?” he chirps. 

“No, I think it was my turn to do that,” Jeongin insists, reaching into his desk to retrieve another console. 

“You always say that, babe,” Felix singsongs. “How many times has it actually happened?”

Jeongin offers him a bright smile. “I’m going to pound you into the dust, Lixie.”

“Oh, just try, Innie, you’ve got years before you can think of getting on my level,” Felix retorts, a feral glint in his eyes. 

Really, Felix wasn’t sure what the other students on their floor would have thought, hearing yells of uncontextualized suggestive combinations of words and probably cursing every now and then, but it was a good distraction and Jeongin looked absolutely beautiful when he was dead-set on something, a grin of enjoyment on his lips and a light of challenge in his eyes. The younger deserved something that could take his mind off of things, even if it was for a few short moments.

It would have been difficult for Felix to completely understand what Jeongin was experiencing at the moment was it not for the own shell shock of his life that he had just received earlier, leaving him unable to so much as look at Jisung without feeling the urge to bring it up to him and demand to know things that the brunette himself probably didn’t even know. Felix couldn’t even imagine the shock that Jisung would go through, and then the fervent denial that would follow. He could talk to Seungmin about it, since Seungmin had been a pair of ears present at the time, but it was probably exhausting enough for the man already, Felix didn’t have the heart to add to his list of burdens.

When an obscenely bright red ‘LOSE’ flashes on the screen of his console, his lips part in disbelief and the straw that was for some reason in his mouth falls onto his shirt. It only really sinks in when he hears a loud cheer from his left and sees Jeongin, fists pumped in the air and a victorious glint in his eyes. 

“Take that! How does defeat taste?” Jeongin crows as Felix plucks the straw off his chest and lets the console drop onto the mattress. 

Felix reaches out to grasp Jeongin’s wrist and tug the younger on top of himself. He lifts his hands to cup Jeongin's cheeks and purposefully plant a kiss on the younger's forehead. "Pretty good if it means you'll give me that smile, babe," he chirps, and laughs as roses bloom on the blonde's cheeks. Jeongin hides his face in the crook of Felix's neck out of embarrassment. 

"You're so cheesy, Lix," he complains, voice muffled in the crook of Felix's neck. "Can't you just let me win in peace?"

"But I thought I'm the real winner here," Felix teases, leaving butterfly kisses on Jeongin's ears which are already rather crimson. 

"Yah, Lixie, you're being too loud," Jeongin huffs lifting his flushed face to bump foreheads with the freckled blonde. Before Felix has the chance to make a smart retort, Jeongin leans in to seal the gap between their lips and quiet the blonde down. The blood rushes to Felix’s face at the unexpected gesture, and when Jeongin moves away he hides behind his hands, flustered.

“You could’ve...warned me or something..!” he mumbles, eliciting a few giggles from the younger. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jeongin hums, rolling off of him and laying at his side. He grabs Felix’s hand and tugs it off his face to hold it, leaving the blonde’s scarlet face exposed. “I know you love surprises~” 

Some surprises were more welcome than others, Felix thinks dryly to himself, but doesn’t say so out loud since Jeongin would catch on to the fact that something was bothering him. He supposed that the reason why Minho had told him to keep Jeongin away was so that the younger wouldn’t have to hear what he had heard. It would be a betrayal to the man if Felix had to tell Jeongin what was on his mind. He turns his head to face Jeongin’s smiling face, his eyes narrowing in their charming foxlike manner, and can’t help the grin that crawls onto his own lips. “I love surprises from you,” he admits. “You give the best surprises.” 

“I know I do,” Jeongin teases. He quiets down before glancing at the wall above Seungmin’s desk where the clock hung. “How long has it been? It’s almost curfew and Seungmin hyung isn’t back yet,” he muses. “We were planning to all head back today.” 

“Maybe he changed his mind,” Felix decides as he shifts to rest his head against the younger’s chest, although it wasn’t a very convincing excuse. They all knew how the brunette prided himself on his organization and diligence; it was unlikely that he would make an impromptu plan like that unless it was completely necessary. 

“Maybe,” Jeongin concedes, burying his hand in the blonde’s hair and leaning down to kiss his head. 

Felix nods and sighs, his smile dissipating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting interesting now, hopefully~  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this, and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time ^^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, and thank you again for all the love and support~ it means more than you'll ever know, trust me  
> The last chapter was a whirlwind, so this one is a bit of a reprieve from all that  
> The excitement will be back soon, so there's that to look forward to!  
> Without further ado, lets get into it

Seungmin sighs, offering Chan some water as the blonde straightens up from where he had upended the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Gratefully Chan accepts the cup and sips at the water, his skin blanched and greyish. Seungmin rubs his back. "Hyung, you go back to the dorms, please," he pleads. "You have work tomorrow and you're going to be sick if you stay here longer. Woojin hyung can send you. I'll stay back and help Minho clean up and make dinner."

It had been increasingly evident to him from the moment Woojin had realized something was wrong that Chan was best off not being here at the moment. It was all only multiplied when they had burst into Minho's bedroom to find the blonde literally at his throat. Fortunately Woojin had taken immediate action as Seungmin himself had frozen from the shock of witnessing something he hadn't seen in years. Chan was certainly not a person who became aggressive when he was angry, regardless of how angry he was. Seungmin had only seen that form of anger from the blonde once in all the time that he had known him, and once was enough. It was far too coincidental that Minho had managed to push the exact button that tore self-control out of Chan’s mind.

That should have been enough for him to realize that he needed to get Chan out of there. But he hadn't, he hadn't and now Chan had vomited for minutes after witnessing everything and hearing everything. Seungmin, who held himself responsible for the blonde's wellbeing since it was evident enough to him that Chan wasn't going to do it satisfactorily of his own volition at the moment, couldn't help but pin the blame for this on himself. In the end, it all spiralled back down to his nosiness.

Whether his thoughts were written as clearly on his face as Hyunjin often claimed they were or not, Chan must have realized it, because the next thing he knows, his head is held in a pair of warm, venous hands. His gaze refocusses diffidently on Chan, and the blonde just nods. "If that's what you want," he states. His breath has that sharp, acrid reek of vomit, but Seungmin only draws closer to him in the privacy of the closed bathroom and nuzzles his hair gently, a tender animalian gesture. 

"That's what I want," Seungmin reaffirms. "You go, hyung. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He reaches for the doorknob, stepping away from the blonde. "Changbin hyung can help Minho and I out. And we can drag Jisung in too after." He opens the door and strides out into the corridor, unable to meet Chan's eyes any longer.

He passes by Changbin, who eyes him dubiously before rushing upstairs to catch Chan before he tripped over his own two feet and sent himself sprawling. The shorter man's nose wrinkles and he frowns. "Did you get on his nerves or something?" He asks. "He doesn't look happy."

Chan onto smiles ruefully, his curly fringe falling over his eyes. "Maybe I did," he sighs, allowing the man to support him. "Thanks, Changbin." 

"Thanks nothing, you're heavy," the man complains, earning a bark of laughter from the exhausted blonde. "Seriously, you need to go get some sleep or something, hyung."

"I will."

"That's probably why he's mad, because you always put yourself in situations where you exhaust all your energy and then you go and don't sleep until g— wait, really?" Changbin casts an incredulous side-glance at him.

Chan chuckles humourlessly. "Don't look so surprised. I told Seungmin I'd head back to the dorms and get some rest."

"The boy's a miracle worker," Changbin mutters under his breath as he leads Chan downstairs. He steps outside where Seungmin is deep in discussion with Woojin and Jisung is leaning against the splintering wood of the outer wall, Kkami in his arms and a disgruntled look in his eyes. Changbin catches his eye and immediately the brunette storms over to them.

"What the hell is going on here?" He huffs. "I just want to go inside my own house but Min literally threatened to throw me out the window. It smells like death in there and I'm pretty sure that at least three people who can actually cook were in there so I don't know how you managed to screw up—" his gaze falls on Chan and his tense shoulders suddenly slump. "...are you guys okay in there?"

"You have faster mood swings than Hyunjin," Changbin remarks, eyeing the sleeping pup in Jisung's arms. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen him since this evening…"

Jisung shrugs. "He said that he had something to grab at the dorms. Maybe he fell down a flight of stairs and broke his everything or something."

"That is a horrible thing to wish on anyone," Chan responds, his voice still hoarse after vomiting. "Should I be concerned?"

"Hey, if anything actually did happen, that's on him," Jisung replies candidly. Changbin snorts and glances over as the sound of footsteps reenter his perception. He meets the brunette's gaze as Seungmin jerks a thumb towards Chan's SUV.

"Woojin hyung's heading back to the dorm. If you're going back go now," he states, his voice taut and monotonous, interlaced with displeasure. 

Changbin leads the blonde to the vehicle and then steps back, retreating to Jisung and Seungmin. Seungmin raises an eyebrow. "You're not leaving? Hyung, you'll have to stay the night if you don't go now. By the time Woojin hyung drives back here it'll be past curfew."

"Eh, that's fine," Changbin responds with a nonchalant shrug. "This place is growing on me. Kind of like a wart."

"This is why I'm sure that at least one of you does witchcraft," Jisung drawls.

Changbin turns to shoot him an offended glance. "I'll bet my pet fish that not all witches have warts, you're just generalizing!"

"Would you two please shut up," Seungmin huffs. "I can feel my IQ dropping just listening to you." 

"You're not better than us!" Jisung yelps only for the younger brunette to stride past him and into the house. 

"Maybe not, but I'm taller."

Jisung stares balefully at his retreating back while Changbin laughs with false humour. "You're not even that tall," he calls after him before turning to eye the sleeping Kkami in Jisung's arms. "Well, looks like you're going to be dog-sitting for a bit."

"Should be easy enough if his dog has a better attitude than him," Jisung decides. 

Changbin chuckles at that and rolls his eyes before waving as Woojin drives off and turning to head back indoors. "I gotta help Minnie clean up upstairs. I think Minho should be in the kitchen right now if you want to talk to him or something." Changbin frowns slightly. "Honestly, he looks like he could use someone to talk to. Would do it myself, but Seungmin will probably nag me to hell and back if I don't help him out."

"Jeez, what kind of mess did you guys make?" Jisung huffs, following after him. 

Changbin shrugs, immediately heading for the stairs. "We didn't make any messes. Still have to clean up though, unfortunately." He glances back at Jisung, an odd look in his eyes, as though he wanted to say something else, but he just looks away once again and retreats upstairs. 

Jisung watches him go with a sigh and reaches to open the windows widely to ventilate the area as much as possible. He lays Kkami on the couch and pulls the blanket over him. Turning about face, he starts for the stairs, but he's stopped in his tracks by the sound of Minho's voice.

"Hey, come here and help me out."

Raising an eyebrow, Jisung trails into the kitchen. "I thought you said you didn't want me in the kitchen? I'm suddenly worthy of stepping into your domain?" He leans against the counter, careful to keep his distance from the ingredients that the brunette had laid out lest he incur Minho's wrath of messing with whatever it was he was preparing.

"You've worked with knives before, you're not going to chop any fingers off using one," Minho retorts, elbowing him towards a chopping board with uncut vegetables resting on it and a clean knife settled beside them. 

Jisung purses his lips and picks up the knife, eyeing it carefully. "Carving knives and kitchen knives are different, you know."

"Well if you're planning on chopping your fingers off, that's on you, not me. Just don't get any blood in the food," Minho responds, turning his back to Jisung in order to keep an eye on the stove.

He falls silent after that, and Jisung is left staring at his back for a few moments before setting the knife down and moving himself to the sink to wash his hands before doing anything. He returns to the chopping board and begins to cut up the vegetables as he had been instructed, not speaking any more words to the man. Something seemed off, or at least more off than usual. There was no explosive retorts, nor was there a persistent sass that seemed to prevail in most of their conversations together. Almost as though Minho would rather not have him there, but was under some kind of obligation to.

It leaves Jisung with an oppressive feeling that he couldn't place a label on. Minho seemed oddly tired too, if his curt mannerisms and lack of words said anything. It was uncharacteristic of him to not have a saucy retort and another jab after that to injure Jisung's pride as much as he could. Jisung frowns and stares down at the diced carrots on the chopping board.

"Jisung?"

He's snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Minho's voice, mellower and lacking in the familiar edge that he was accustomed to. He glances at the man before turning his gaze back to the chopping board. "Hm?"

"Why is Hyunjin's dog here?"

Jisung frowns. The man's voice sounded troubled, and Jisung didn't think it was because of Kkami. Minho seemed to have little issues with any kind of animal that wasn't bugs, but then again if he didn't have an issue with bugs, Jisung would probably be a lot more apprehensive of him than he currently was. "Hyunjin needed to head back to the dorms earlier. It's too late for him to come back so Kkami's gonna be staying the night." Jisung chuckles slightly. "I'm surprised he hasn't spammed my messages with detailed instructions on how to spoil him."

"I see." 

That wasn't the response Jisung was either going for or had expected. He had wanted something along the lines of Minho telling him that he probably didn't get texts in general since he didn't have friends, although they both knew that wasn't true by now. The brusque response that he had received was neither satisfying nor normal. Jisung's frown deepens, understanding what Changbin must have meant when mentioning that Minho might want someone to talk to. Although Jisung doubts that he's the best person to have a civil conversation with Minho, he would rather try than have this. 

"Hey, Minho?"

"Yes, Jisung?"

Jisung pauses for a moment before speaking again. "Is something wrong? Want to talk about anything?"

"Not particularly, why?"

Again, the brunette cuts him off before he could make any progress and Jisung begins to feel the pricks of frustration spark beneath his skin. He draws in a breath and closes his eyes, the urge to snap at Minho and demand that he say something even remotely mocking again rising up his throat. He forces it down and begins to peel an onion. "You're acting weird. Weirder than normal at least."

"Am I?"

The knife hits the wooden cutting board with a dull clunk as Jisung slams it down flat onto the surface. He turns to glare at Minho's back and strides over to him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and staring at him. "Yes, yes you are! Where's the snarky comments? Where's the mockery? Where's the condescension?" He sighs and releases Minho's shirt, wiping his hand off on his own. "Can't you tell me about the stuff that's bothering you instead of brooding over it? I'll listen.." he drifts off weakly. 

Minho stares at him an enigmatic look in his catlike eyes before they crinkle slightly and amusement curves his round lips into a smile. "What's this, Lee Jisung, are you worried about me?" He asks, and it should have sounded teasing, but Jisung can tell it isn't. It's only another feeble attempt of Minho's to avert his attention. Which would have been effective, was he not so focussed on the fact that there was something pressing enough to steal the man's focus.

"Yes, I'm worried about you," Jisung snaps back sharply. "I have no idea what all you've gone through other than what you've told me and now you've got even more on your mind." Jisung's brow furrows. "What if you're pulling a Chan hyung and suffering in silence and I could have done something to help but I didn't, huh?" He glares at Minho. "It feels wrong to see you like this. Even when Woojin hyung went and spilled the beans on you, you still mocked me and joked around afterwards. But now you're just.." he gesticulates obscurely in attempts to convey his point. "Acting weird." When he's met with silence for a longer frame, he sighs resignedly and turns around to head back to the counter and retrieve his knife. "Nevermind...I'm probably making a fool of myself anyway," he mutters. 

When he hears laughter behind him, he glances back to see the man's features crinkled in some kind of rueful mirth. Minho catches his gaze and then looks away, his gaze fixed on the stove. "You're something else, Lee Jisung. Sometimes I don't know what to think of you."

"Sometimes I don't know what to think of myself either, but hey, at least I'm putting some effort in," Jisung retorts, blinking away the stinging sensation in his eyes from the onions. Or maybe it was frustration. At this point he couldn’t really differentiate. Maybe it was both. He shears narrowly past his fingertip and hisses slightly as beads of blood emerge from the thin slit. Lowering the knife, he rushes to the sink to run the appendage under cold water. 

It was so peculiar how such a small cut could bleed so profusely. Jisung watches as the water flowing out of the faucet stains red and he frowns, a sudden feeling of unease crawling down his spine. Although he was nowhere near as sensitive to the sight of blood as Chan was, something about the sight left him feeling disturbed. He frowns and lifts his hand closer to his line of sight to stare at the shallow cut. It stung, once no longer numbed by the cold water. 

“I didn’t actually think you were planning on chopping your fingers off.” Jisung glances up, as another kind of coldness encapsulates his hand and he finds Minho scrutinizing the cut on his finger with a frown. “You didn’t get blood on the vegetables, did you?” The man lowers Jisung’s hand and hurries to the cabinet to retrieve a medical kit. Jisung belatedly wonders since when they kept such a thing there, but he figures it was probably Seungmin, who must have realized that his uncoordinated self would probably somehow manage to cut something that wasn’t supposed to be cut in the kitchen.

Jisung huffs and rolls his eyes, watching Minho rummage through the kit for a bandage. “If your food looks redder than it should, I’m sorry,” he drawls. 

A hint of a smirk crawls over Minho’s lips at the comment, but it fades as soon as it had come. He pulls an adhesive bandage from the kit and hurries back to Jisung, taking his hand and swiftly wrapping the injured finger up. He squeezes the bandaged finger slightly, eliciting a wince from Jisung. “Be more careful,” he scolds. “You could’ve actually hurt yourself. If you can’t focus, then take a break.”

To say the least, Jisung was surprised by the sudden glaring expression of concern. He’s left dumbfounded for a few seconds before he realizes that having Minho still holding his hand for whatever reason while staring intently right at him was a rather compromising situation to be in. He tugs his hand out of the man’s grip and falters back, looking away. “Yeah...sorry.” 

Seemingly satisfied at the apology, Minho retreats back to the stove and turns down the heat, grabbing the vegetables that Jisung had cut and throwing them into the saucepan. He glances back at Jisung. “Thanks for cutting these up though.” 

Small victories, Jisung decides, regardless of how unsatisfying those small victories were. At least his services were recognized. He smiles slightly, almost bitterly as Minho turns his back again. 

Eventually Seungmin and Changbin return downstairs, presumably finished with cleaning and with irredeemably soiled rubber gloves which the younger of the pair is quick to dispose of. Jisung finds himself chased out of the kitchen by Seungmin once the brunette catches sight of his bandaged finger, verbosely scolding him for being clumsy enough to not know how to use a knife properly although he was a grown man. That stung far more than it should have, but Jisung lets himself be herded out before Seungmin nags him further.

He crumples on the couch beside Kkami, swaddling the dog up in the blanket and lifting him up like an infant to rest on his lap so that Changbin could sit down beside him. The man practically falls down against the beige cushions with a long groan. “That was brutal.” 

“Why, what did Min make you do?” Jisung asks. “You look half-dead.” 

Changbin’s head rolls on the backrest of the sofa to stare blankly at Jisung. “Couldn’t you have worded that in literally any other way?”

“Okay, you look like your eyebags just got into a fistfight with a varsity rugby team and then you had a steamroller run you over in a deserted parking lot after you went to buy a defeat slushie at a convenience store at 10pm,” Jisung drawls, resting his hand on Kkami’s head. The dog nuzzles his hand and uses it as a pillow of sorts.

“That was...weirdly descriptive and hyperbolic,” Changbin remarks with a long yawn. “I just want food and sleep and a passing grade in exams and I’m a happy man.” 

Jisung snorts and cocks his head, cracking his neck in the process. He winces and rubs the sore area with his free hand. “Well you’re setting the happiness bar high, aren’t you?”

“Why, what was I supposed to say? Instant coffee, energy drinks and the ability to pull consecutive all-nighters?” Changbin rests lazily against Jisung’s shoulder, eyeing the sleeping Kkami with pursed lips. 

“Yeah, that sounds more reasonable,” Jisung decides.

“Or you know, maybe getting your act together and setting schedules and trying to follow them as much as possible,” Seungmin interjects, approaching them with a hand on his hip and a raised eyebrow. 

Waving him off, Jisung snorts. “Yeah, sure, you straight A student, you,” he dismisses.

“He’s not straight though?” Changbin points out and Jisung lets out an ugly bark of laughter at the badly executed joke. 

“Hilarious,” Seungmin drawls his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m rolling on the floor. Now if you’re done, dinner’s ready. Minho made japchae.”

Jisung sets Kkami aside with as much gentleness as possible because Hyunjin would probably throw him if he accidentally threw the dog in his enthusiasm to eat something. He hurries back into the kitchen where Minho lays out the plates for them. He glances up when he sees them entering and stands back. “Hurry up and eat so I can clean up after your messes.” 

“I’ll do the dishes, hyung,” Seungmin pipes up and Jisung turns to stare at him as though he had grown a second head. Seungmin, catching his gaze, frowns. “Why, did a hairy behemoth spawn on my face or something?”

Jisung’s face twists into an appalled grimace. “Don’t put that image in my head,” he groans, stealing a chair and settling down in it. “Since when did you start calling Minho ‘hyung’?” 

“Why, should I not call him that?” Seungmin challenges coolly, settling down in his own chair. “He _is_ older than me. It’d be rude if I didn’t, right?”

“Since when did you ever care about being polite to people after you’ve known them for more than twenty minutes?” Jisung mutters under his breath, grabbing his chopsticks to take some food for himself. “Besides, I’m older than you and you don’t show me any respect.” 

“Respect is given where respect is due,” Seungmin replies breezily, waving him off. “Besides, you’re not a hyung...you’re like a pet squirrel.” He props his elbows up on the table and rests his chin on his hands, offering the brunette a smirk. “Mostly cute, but sometimes bites. Might have rabies, but if you get your shots you’re safe.” 

“You know, I think that’s the most accurate description of Jisung I’ve heard in my entire life,” Changbin pipes up, taking some food for himself. “Good on you, Minnie.” 

“For the record, I hate all of you,” Jisung grumbles. 

“All right, kids, less fighting, more eating,” Minho cuts in wryly. “The quicker you finish eating, the quicker I can lock you in your rooms so that I don’t have to listen to this for much longer.” 

“The cut deep, Minho,” Changbin remarks, mocking a wounded expression. “But I can see where you’re coming from, so I guess we can let that slide.” he taps his lips thoughtfully after inhaling another mouthful of the noodles. Once he swallows it, he glances over at Minho again. “By the way, your room is kind of a mess right now, so choose your fate,” he announces, gesturing around the table at Jisung and then Seungmin.

Minho stares at him, wide-eyed. "How much baking soda did you two even use?"

"...let's just say Hyunjin grabbed a few boxes and they're all empty," Seungmin admits sheepishly, looking somewhat remorseful for the problematic cleaning job. 

With a groan and a hand against his temple, Minho sighs and leans back against the counter. His eyes shift from one to the other as he weighs his options before pointing to Changbin. "This is because you weren't an option, by the way," he informs. "We'll be in Felix's room then, and you'll room with Jisung?" He glances back to Seungmin.

"How could you do this to me, hyung? I thought we were friends, why would you throw me to the squirrels?" The brunette drawls sarcastically. 

"Careful, you might wanna cut down on all that salt or it might give you heart disease," Jisung retorts huffily.

"But rooming with Jisung might give you rabies," Changbin muses with overdramatized concern in his voice.

"I guess it's a good thing that your boyfriend's a doctor," Minho adds. 

"Okay, I officially hate all of you. I'll get that in writing." Jisung crosses his arms over his chest with a pout. "And I'll frame it and hang it on the wall."

"Sure thing," Seungmin drawls, standing up and carrying his empty plate to the sink. "I'll help you."

"Gee, thanks," Jisung calls after him indignantly. The only response he receives is the sound of rushing water from the faucet of the sink. He crams noodles into his mouth until his cheeks are stuffed before chewing sullenly. He glances up when he feels something poking at his cheek and he lifts his eyes to find Minho seated in the empty chair beside him, elbow propped on the table and free hand prodding him. 

"You really do look like a chipmunk when you eat," Minho remarks, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand and poking at Jisung's face again. Before Jisung can bite out an unsavoury retort with his mouth still full of food, Minho chuckles. "It's cute."

Jisung nearly spits out his food at the offhanded comment that, if his ears weren't deceiving him, sounded suspiciously like a compliment. He swallows down the mouthful and blinks comically, staring blankly at Minho in silence for a few moments. The brunette raises an eyebrow and stands up. "That's the results of today's social experiment, I guess," he dismisses. "Lee Jisungs tend to nearly choke when unexpectedly complimented."

"Oh, no, he's normally an arrogant little gremlin if you give him any kind of compliment at any given time," Changbin inputs amusedly, earning himself a glare from the younger. "He's just shocked because it's you."

Jisung snorts, dropping his chopsticks in favour of covering his scarlet ears. "Well it's because it took him so long to acknowledge the greatness of my looks and personality," he sputters, blatantly flustered. 

"Sure," Changbin hums, carrying his plate to the sinks and nodding thankfully when Seungmin takes it from him to wash it. He stretches until a satisfying crack strikes his ears and yawns. "I'm going to head up and take a shower," he informs. "I think I have an extra layer of skin that's just baking soda."

"If you clog up the drain, you're paying for repairs," Jisung calls after his retreating back. The man is long gone before the words can reach his ears and Jisung huffs, poking at his noodles with his chopsticks. 

Minho pushes the chairs in and bring the plate of leftovers to the fridge. "You always take so long to eat and you eat the least too," he scolds sharply, striding back to Jisung and eyeing his almost cleaned plate. "That's why you're so skinny. I'm not the best cook around but at least I'm trying to keep you healthy."

"You make it sound like I'm Chan hyung or something," Jisung huffs, stuffing the remainder of the food into his cheeks. "I just have a fast metabolism. I eat, Seungminnie can vouch for me." He glances at the brunette, who remains occupied with the dishes at the sink. "Right, Min?"

"He's not wrong," Seungmin agrees. "Jisung's always been skinnier than average." He glances back at Minho, meeting his eyes silently before quietly striding over to grab Jisung's plate and retreat to the sink once again. "He's never gained weight easily. It all goes to his cheeks, probably." 

Jisung misses the subdued edge in the younger's voice, but Minho catches it. His gaze sobers and he frowns. "I'll take your word for it." He walks out of the kitchen. "I'm heading upstairs. Don't forget to turn off the lights and make sure the water isn't running." He pads up the staircase, the wood barely breaking beneath his soft footsteps. The scent of death still permeates through the air, but not as strongly as it had before, fortunately enough. Regardless of mess, the pair had been able to effectively eradicate most of the rotting stench, leaving only a fainter trace of that sickening sweetness.

He steps into his room to find it a mess of bubbling white, baking soda covering nearly every surface and even stretching up the stairs that led into the attic. Minho blinks owlishly at the sight. They had certainly been...thorough. the windows still remained flung open to the elements to ventilate the room, and Minho moves to partially close it before grabbing some clothes from the closet. He eyes his desk and the invoice booklet atop of it. He had no use for that any more and he had seen Seungmin eyeing it for whatever reason. Maybe he'd let the brunette take it. Passing by the bookshelf, he grabs a novel from it.

Turning about face, he abandons the room to take shelter in Felix's plushie-stacked bedroom, fixing up the messed sheets and organizing his books that lay scattered on his desk, on the bed, on the shelves; it seemed that the only things that the freckled blonde consistently kept organized were the stuffed creatures that lined his bed. It was rather endearing, in Minho's humble opinion. He sets down a spare set of pyjamas on the bed for Changbin, but doesn't bother changing into a pair himself. Laying down on the bed, head propped up on Felix's pillows, he flips open the book. A loose button at the top of his shirt comes undone and he frowns, shifting his free hand to pull the fabric together. 

Within a few minutes, the door of the bedroom opens and Changbin strides in with a towel around his hips. Minho glances up at him and whistles cheekily. "Wow, hot body," he comments, shamelessly eyeing Changbin's built frame. The man's lip and eyebrow piercings had been removed, and it comes to Minho's attention that this is the first time he's actually taken a good look at the man when he wasn't wearing them. After all, last night he had left his room when both Changbin and Hyunjin had ended up tangled together on the bed. Without them, the man seemed much softer.

“Thanks, can you stop ogling me now?” Changbin huffs amusedly. “I need to change.” 

“My house, my rules, I can ogle you as much as I want,” Minho retorts, earning a snort from the man as he slips on the pyjama shirt. 

“It’s actually Jisung and Felix’s house technically. And I don’t think Jisung would appreciate you ogling me, so kindly let me put on pants in peace. Please.” 

With a chuckle, Minho turns back to the novel in his hands, giving Changbin enough privacy to change. He turns a page, his eyes drifting languidly over the lines of text. His gaze eventually drifts back to the younger man. “You look nice without all that jewellery,” he remarks offhandedly, his eyes naturally drifting back to Changbin’s face. 

Changbin seems caught off guard by that, pausing from where he was buttoning up his shirt to meet Minho’s gaze. “Do I?”

With a shrug, Minho returns to his book again, not so much reading it as using it as a distraction at this point. “You look mellower. More approachable, I guess. You look nice.” 

“Who’s flirting with who now?” Changbin teases, grabbing one of Felix’s pillow plushes and hugging it as he sits down near the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, shut up,” Minho huffs, sitting upright against the headboard. “I’m just saying that I like your face au naturel. Why do you even try to look like a tough guy? You’re so...soft. I mean, I wouldn’t have expected you to cuddle with Hyunjin the moment he stole my bed.” 

The younger man shrugs. “I like my piercings. And I just like the kinds of clothes I wear. It’s not like it’s the image I’m trying to project or anything, I just like it. Besides, you gotta admit that cuddles are nice. And Hyunjin is clingy, so it’s a win-win.” He grins slightly, resting his chin on the plush and eyeing Minho. “How about you? 

“What about me?” Minho hums, lowering his book.

“You’re always acting standoffish, but you don’t seem like a standoffish kind of person,” Changbin hums. “I mean...I guess all things considered it makes sense, but—”

Minho raises an eyebrow and tosses the book onto Felix’s side table before loosely crossing his arms over his chest. “Well then consider all those things,” he replies frankly. “I have no idea why you all can suddenly see me. It’s never happened before, although everyone who’s been here previously could hear me, and that’s where all this ‘haunted’ rigmarole came from, but if you’ve been dead for twenty years then it starts becoming normal. If you’re suddenly thrown out of that normalcy, you would start getting defensive, don’t you think?”

“Well, you’re awfully straightforward, aren’t you?” Changbin remarks. 

“Someone has to be around here,” Minho replies. “But there’s nothing I can hide now. You all practically know everything about me. And frankly speaking, I’m worried about that. Anyone who gets involved with someone like me is probably going to get tangled up in a hazardous mess anyway.” Minho frowns. “I still can’t believe Hyunjin tried to pull something as careless as hacking Black Tiger’s information archives…” he drifts off, his brow furrowing. “If it was that easy, they would already have been dissolved and scattered or apprehended by the police. Well, to begin with, it’s pretty impressive that he managed to get into it.”

“Remember what I told you about him being a genius? Yeah, he likes to do things like this for fun.” Changbin sighs and raises his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m still not sure whether he’s an adrenaline junkie because he’s terrified of a lot of things, but he’s got a head for voluntarily jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Woojin hyung could probably explain it better than me.” 

Minho shakes his head. “Whether he does it for the thrill of it or for other reasons doesn’t matter. Do you think other, more qualified people haven’t tried to access Black Tiger’s archives? The reason why no one still knows who orchestrates everything and runs the show is because dead men tell no tales, Changbin.” Minho’s brow furrows. “Do you see what I’m trying to say here? They were all tracked down and killed before they could leave any tracks.” 

Changbin’s eyes widen, and Minho can almost see the thoughts in his mind reflected in his eyes. Changbin shifts closer to him. “Are you trying to tell me that Hyunjin—” 

“Is in danger? He might as well be,” Minho responds honestly, his voice soft. “All of you are in danger, I can’t hide that fact.” His eyes narrow. “It’s why I didn’t want to let you in. This would have happened eventually.” He frowns, a sudden thought from the past shadowing his mind, and his gaze darkens. “I...can’t let anything happen to you.” 

Changbin, despite his pale face, shakes his head stubbornly. “We should call the police,” he insists. “We have enough evidence to at least apprehend your father, right? That should be able to do something—” 

Minho shakes his head. “You’re wrong.” He sighs. “Why do you think my father could get away with so much? Because he has money. In this world, money is everything, Changbin. If you have enough of it, you can do whatever you want and get away with whatever you want.” His words seem to stun the man into silence and he breathes out a resigned sigh. “I’m just glad Jisung got away back then before they could touch him,” he admits.

“Well, yeah,” Changbin breathes, horror evident in his voice. “I still can’t believe that...that happened to him. And this happened to you. It’s…” he drifts off and frowns, retreating to the footboard of the bed and staring at the brunette. 

“At least he managed to escape,” Minho murmurs. “The other children weren’t so lucky.” Changbin falls silent at that, his lips pressed into a taut line. Minho stares down at the mattress, deep lines etched into his brow. “Lucas Bang was one of those children. He looked a lot like Chan. They killed him.” Minho buries his face in his hand. “They killed all of them and then they killed me.” Minho raises his head to stare at Changbin. “In that field when you ran after me. That was where they died.”

He swallows thickly and smiles humourlessly, blinking at the roof to dissipate the tears that formed at the corners of his vision, blurring his gaze. “That’s why I can’t let them hurt any of you. I can’t let them get their hands on Jisung or Jeongin. If they get their hands on Jisung, then I’ll really have failed. And if they touch my brother…” He drifts off, his gaze hardening. A tear escapes his eye unwittingly and he reaches up to dab at it with the heel of his hand. 

“Hyung, why’re you crying?” Changbin mumbles, his voice low and slightly gruff.

Minho laughs and blinks rapidly. “Crying? Who’s crying?” he lowers his head, his smile fading. His eyes darken once again as the fear that had been kept at bay by his distance with all of them finally breached that shield. He didn’t even know what to do any more, everything had too quickly spiralled out of his control and now innocent people were being pulled into a situation that they should have never been in in the first place.

“Hey…” Minho feels an arm encircle his shoulders and he closes his eyes at that. “Hyung, we’ve all been through a lot together. One problem isn’t going to stop us, and if it does, we’re not going down without a fight. I’m pretty sure Seungmin would probably be livid if we just sat down and did nothing about it.” Changbin smirks slightly, staring at the bedroom door. “It’s one of the few things he and Hyunjin actually have in common. So don’t worry about us, worry about yourself.” 

Those could have quite possibly been the least comforting words Minho has ever heard in his life; it practically screamed that they were going to throw themselves from neck deep to six feet under in this madness. And yet, it was oddly comforting to know that at least, this time, he didn’t have to take on a dreadful excursion alone. He chuckles softly despite himself.

“I solemnly swear that I have given up on all of you,” Minho remarks as a smile slips onto his face involuntarily, his voice slightly hoarse from holding back the urge to cry.

“Oh, people do that all the time,” Changbin informs, patting Minho’s shoulder.

“I really hope that wasn’t meant to be a reassurance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too much happened this chapter, but I hope it was a little more of a lighthearted read  
> Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it <3  
> Until next time~


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful readers, and welcome to the next chapter~  
> I'd like to apologize for failing to thank you all for 100+ kudos, that was a bad on my part  
> You're all such wonderful support and just to know that you read this is an encouragement <3  
> I'm not quite satisfied with how this chapter turned out - I feel that it's lacking somehow, but I hope you enjoy it anyway ^^  
> Without further ado, let's go~

When the fifth alarm of the morning rings a blaring wake-up call, it’s Woojin who finally drags himself off of his bed with a groan, squinting at the early-morning light that filtered through the curtains as he searches for the source of the insufferable noise. He stares down at Chan’s cell phone and shuts off the alarm before reaching down to shake the blonde’s shoulders. “Chan, wake up,” he calls. “It’s…” his eyes dart back to the cell phone. “Chan it’s almost five thirty, you’ll be late!”

“Late?” The blonde shoots upright, nearly ramming into Woojin’s chin. Fortunately, the man, even half-asleep, manages to avoid having a few of his teeth knocked clean out of his mouth. Chan sways for a moment before rubbing at his sleep-swollen eyes and eyeing his phone with betrayal. “I thought I set an alarm.” 

“You set five, Chan. And none of them woke you up.” Woojin rubs his eyes and yawns, sitting down on his mattress. “Go shower. I’ll get your clothes and make toast or something.” He grabs a water bottle from the side table and gulps down some before running his fingers through his bird’s-nest hair and standing up. “Use the bathroom outside.” 

Chan offers him a lax smile. “Sometimes I wonder how I survive without you,” he remarks sleepily, his eyes drooping closed. He blinks and opens them widely in attempts to keep himself awake. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve survived without me,” Woojin agrees as he disappears into the small bathroom in their bedroom. 

With a hoarse chuckle, Chan drags himself off of the bed and grabs his phone, unlocking it and swiping through his notifications. He catches sight of the goodnight text he had received from Seungmin. He sends back a few heart emoticons and a ‘good morning’ before hurrying off to the other bathroom. Soon enough, the muffled sound of music and running water brings liveliness to the otherwise quiet dorm room.

Emerging only two songs later, Chan dries off his hair and wraps the towel around his hips before hurrying out of the bathroom, passing by a pyjama-clad Woojin in the kitchen and bursting into his bedroom where his scrubs and jacket lay. Throwing on his clothes, he tames his hair with a comb as he emerges from the bedroom where Woojin offers him a plate with a few pieces of toast, eggs, and fruit. He huffs and grins at the brunette, who still looked half-asleep. “Thanks, Woojin.” 

“There’s coffee in the pot,” the man sighs, moving to sit at the small round table that served as their dining table in the corner of the living room. A mug of the steaming brew already rests in his hands and he sips at it tiredly. “How are you feeling?” he asks as Chan refuses the offer for coffee and instead pours himself a glass of milk from the mini fridge. He carries that and his meal to the table.

“...other than the sudden urge that I have to call in sick for more sleep, not too bad, I suppose,” Chan hums, lifting the mug to his lips. Woojin smiles at that and rests his cheek in his hand, arm propped up on the table. “How are you?”

“Seriously considering throwing your cell phone out of the window,” Woojin replies with a smile. “Next time make it only two alarms, or I just might.” 

Chan, with nearly the entire piece of toast shoved into his mouth, chews at it sheepishly before swallowing and rubbing the back of his neck. “...you’re mad, aren’t you?”

The brunette shakes his head. “Not mad, just a little irked at being woken up early the one day where I only have practicum and evening classes.” 

“I’ll buy you chicken,” Chan decides. 

Woojin’s eyes crinkle in a smile and he takes another sip of his coffee. “Deal. But enough talking, finish your food and leave or you’ll be late. You have..” he glances at the clock hanging on the wall beside the bathroom door. “Fifteen minutes to get to the hospital. I put your medication in your bag already.” 

Chan nods gratefully and bites into the green apple on his plate, promptly hopping to his feet and hurrying towards the door, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He nods a goodbye at Woojin since his mouth was currently full, and runs down to the parking lot. In his haste, he leaves his phone abandoned on his unmade bed.

Fortunately, traffic isn’t all that bad since it is the ungodly hours of the morning, but it doesn't mean that Chan doesn't frantically search for parking before running into the building like the devil was on his heels, nearly forgetting his bag in the process. With a brisk greeting to the receptionist and a raking of his fingers through his hair, he drops of his belongings in his locker and hurries himself to the computer room to print his patient list.

Eyes drifting to the clock that hung on the wall, he breathes out a sigh, eyeing the many others that were already within the bustling room, some looking more tired than others. To say the least, the curse of arriving to work at the brink of tardiness was that most people did that, and that only clogged up the entire routine morning more. When Chan finally gets his list printed, it's with five minutes to spare before he makes his rounds. Passing through the corridor, he reviews the list with a yawn that he hides behind the sleeve of his white coat.

Sometimes the fast-paced environment wore him out more than he had ever imagined, leaving him wondering just why he had subjected himself to these five years (so far at least) of rigorous, almost brutal studying. Those thoughts never lasted for long whenever he would step into a ward and check on the patients, whether children or teens or adults. It was his conviction, he wouldn't—couldn't—let another person fade in front of his eyes without being able to do something. 

His fingers crinkle the edges of the papers in his hands and he frowns, his brow creasing. He pauses in the corridor and draws in a breath, feeling a sudden nausea whirl around his stomach. Swallowing the sick feeling back, he heads to his first round of the morning, washing away his unease by sheer willpower. He laughs dryly to himself, fingers curling around the cool, steel handle of the door. After all, what kind of doctor was he if he couldn't handle a little blood?

After a moment's hesitation, he reaches for the bottle of nausea medication that Woojin had slipped for him from his pocket and swallows a tablet. He opens the door and strides in, a smile on his lips. "Good morning!"

* * *

Being woken up early hadn’t really been all too bad, and although Woojin wasn’t exactly too pleased at losing precious hours of sleep, he supposes it couldn’t be helped. Coffee and a quiet, slow morning weren’t all that bad. It almost made him wish Hyunjin was there to share the tranquil moment with him. The man was more likely to be either wide-awake and bustling around, perhaps in search of his precious pet before the realization would come that he had to leave Kkami at Felix and Jisung’s place, or deader than a log, fast asleep in bed. Chuckling softly to himself, Woojin finishes up his coffee.

The man washes his coffee mug and leaves it to dry on a rack before retreating back into the bedroom. His eyes trail over to Chan’s unmade bed and he frowns when he finds the abandoned cell phone on the sheets, half-covered by the messily thrown about blanket. Retrieving it, he sighs and sets it on the bedside table. Returning to his own messily made bed, he fixes it up before grabbing his phone and unplugging the charger from it. 

It was odd for Hyunjin to neither send him goodnight or good morning texts. Woojin himself rarely ever responded in like, often choosing to call or visit the man in turn. Sending such greetings over text was, in his humble opinion, very shallow, although if it was Hyunjin, it was somehow endearing. But ever since the last night, there was no message, and since there was none this morning either, Woojin could only assume that the man was still asleep.

He stands to fix up Chan’s bed, since the man would probably be exhausted when he returned in the evening anyway and he had the time. He yawns into his wrist and then makes the bed quietly. After setting the man's pillows in place, he wanders over to pull the curtains away from the windows and allow muted light to flood in. Surveying the grounds from the window, he can already see other students filtering out of the dorms, some to exercise, others to attend their classes in the early hours of the morning. At least he could afford to relax. Maybe he'd go for a run later too. 

The low hum of buzzing steals his attention and his eyes whisk back to the side table where Chan's phone vibrates loudly, breaking whatever mellow atmosphere had been sustained. Drawing himself away from the windows, he grabs the phone, eyeing Felix's name, flashed over the screen. He raises an eyebrow. It was unusual for Felix to be up so early, much less to call someone at this time in the morning. After a moment's hesitation, Woojin answers the call.

" _ Chris, thank goodness you're awake, I need your help _ —"

Perhaps the first thing that Woojin understands is that something just be wrong, not because of his English (Felix did tend to habitually speak English when conversing with Chan), but by the manner in which he had addressed him. Felix only ever called him Chris when he was troubled or stressed. Woojin frowns. "Chan left his phone behind by accident. He woke up late and was in a hurry to get to the hospital."

A few moments of pregnant silence boils between them, only broken by Felix's "Woojin hyung? Is that you?"

Woojin nods slightly, a frown curling onto his lips. "It's me. What's the problem? Maybe I can help."

He hears a deep breath from the other end of the call and another pause, as though the blonde was attempting to gather himself and calm down. Woojin's eyes dart out the window again to the wisps of cloud that disrupt an otherwise uniform blue sky. "Hyung, I don't know what's wrong, I woke up and I Jeongin wasn't breathing and I checked for a pulse and he didn't have one—his heart isn't beating, I've already called 119 and I've tried giving him CPR but hyung, he's not responding and I don't know what to do—"

Woojin's eyes widen. "Don't just stop, keep going. He's warm to the touch right?"

"Yes, he's warm, but I don't know whether it's because of me or the blankets or—"

"Felix, calm down, breathe. Keep going. Are you in the dorms or are you at home?"

"The dorms, Minho told me to take Jeongin somewhere else, so we went out yesterday and then came here… Hyung, he was perfectly fine yesterday— there wasn't any sign of stress and he did look tired but I thought it was the normal kind of tired— hyung, is this my fault?"

"Felix," Woojin calls, his voice steady. "Worry about that later. Right now you have to watch over Jeongin." He cradles Chan's phone between his ear and shoulder, moving to throw on a light jacket and grab his wallet and phone. He hurries out into the living room area and then pads over to the door. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He slips into a pair of shoes, silently grateful that Jeongin and Seungmin's room was in the same complex as his and Chan's. 

The sound of distant sirens enter his perception and he relaxes slightly, wasting little time in running down the corridor and then the staircases, phone and wallet shoved haphazardly into his back pockets, and Chan's phone held close to his ear. He can hear the slightly uneven breathing from the other end and he frowns. "Felix, breathe in...hold it...breathe out. He'll be okay. Be calm for his sake. In...hold it...out." He can hear the blonde shakily obeying his directions and a small smile creeps over his lips despite the unease that wormed about his stomach. 

The paramedics end up at the dorm room before he does, and Woojin is quick to bring out a quite clearly agitated Felix from within the room, allowing the medics to work freely. The freckled blonde is unusually pale, and there's a hard blankness in his stare, an expression that Woojin had come to acquaint with apprehension or exhaustion. It could very well be both in this case. He opens his arms for the blonde and Felix gladly hides himself in them, burying his face in Woojin's neck. "Hyung, I don't know what to do…"

An ache pulses in Woojin's chest as he wraps Felix in his arms, burying a hand in his hair and running his fingers soothingly through the blonde strands. "It'll be okay," Woojin murmurs gently, the urge to comfort the younger overriding the more rational part of his mind that told him to bring assurance with facts. He squeezes the slim frame in his arms slightly. "Jeongin is tough, isn't he? He'll pull through. We need to believe in him."

"Believing in him can only do so much, hyung," Felix mumbles into his shoulder, and Woojin sighs, tugging the blonde away from the door as Jeongin is wheeled out on a stretcher. The commotion had aroused the attention of some of the the other students, and Woojin can feel the urge to just hide the two younger ones away from the prying eyes. Woojin's eyes narrow at Jeongin's skinny frame fastened to the stretcher, but he relaxes when he sees the slight movement of his chest. It was faint, but it was visible. 

"He'll be fine," Woojin assures, rubbing circles into Felix's back. "He's strong, isn't he?"

Felix, eyeing the stretcher bitterly, only nods. "Yeah...he's strong." The blonde wipes at his eyes and rests a hand on his chest. "I should have realized he wasn't feeling well yesterday, hyung. Maybe then he'd be okay right now.."

"Don't say that," Woojin interjects evenly. "He seemed perfectly fine to me yesterday too. And I'm sure that if there was really something wrong, Chan wouldn't have pointed it out. It was unexpected. You would have had no way of knowing." Woojin offers him a smile. "He'll be all right, Felix. But why don't we go to the hospital now so we can see him soon? I can return Chan's phone too.." he glances down at the device in his pocket. 

"I don't understand— he's passed out before, but he's never just…" the blonde drifts off shakily, his face paling once again. Woojin guides him back into the dorm room and shuts the door behind them for privacy. 

"Felix, pause. Breathe in." When the younger stops in his tracks to listen, Woojin smiles. "That's better. In and out." He tugs off his jacket and hooks it over the back of Seungmin's chair. "Go wash up and get dressed. We'll go to the hospital when you're ready and stop for a bite to eat somewhere." He sits down in Seungmin's chair and eyes the blonde carefully. "Take a quick shower. No longer than five minutes. Dress comfortably and drink some water. Then we'll go. All right?"

When Felix nods and disappears into the bathroom, Woojin's smile dissipates and he eyes Seungmin's desk, perfectly organized and neatly maintained. His eyes fall on a pile of textbooks resting beside the desktop lamp and catch sight of a corner of papers peeking from beneath the stack. Tentatively, he moves away the textbooks to find the profile of Minho that Seungmin had procured a copy of. Woojin's eyes trail over the information that was contained in the sheets, biting his lip thoughtfully. 

He had yet to talk to Seungmin about all that they had uncovered the day prior. Although he doubted that would be the priority in Seungmin's mind if he discovered that Jeongin had just suffered cardiac arrest. The brunette had always been protective of their youngest. Woojin's eyes drift over the records with a sigh before he freezes, his blood cold. Cardiac arrest. Cardiac arrest had presumably been how Minho died, but they knew that wasn't the case— He shakes his head slowly. That was a paranoid thought.

"Ready to go, hyung," Felix calls from the door where he was pulling on his shoes, and Woojin whips the papers back beneath the textbooks. He stands and grabs his jacket, throwing it on. Making his way to the door, he leaves the room with Felix following in his wake. 

"How are you feeling?" He asks as they pass through the parking lot, the area busy with people hurrying to get to their destinations. Woojin could understand that there would be traffic on the way there, and the thought already saps just a little more or his vitality out of his body.

"Better," Felix admits, strapping himself into the passenger's seat of the car. "I was freaking out, I think the shower helped a bit." He sighs. "Hyung, we've known Jeongin for longer than you have, and he's never actually had anything like this happen before. I didn't expect to just…"

"I know, Felix, I know," Woojin murmurs. He frowns. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” The older of the pair casts a side glance at the blonde. “I just have a feeling he will be."

The traffic easily adds a solid few minutes to their travel time, multiplied by Felix's impatient tapping against the door and his morose silence that thickened the air between them. When they finally reach the hospital, Woojin searches around for parking before hurrying out to the building, tailed quickly by Felix, whose attention seemed fixed solely on getting into the hospital and finding his way to Jeongin. It was endearing, in Woojin’s opinion, their almost childlike care for each other. An inexperienced, sweet kind of love. 

Woojin sits Felix down and strides to the information desk to speak with the receptionist and gather what he can on Jeongin’s state and whereabouts. They hadn’t arrived too long after the young man had been rushed to the hospital by the paramedics, after all. He exchanges a few words and waits as the receptionist makes a call. His eyes dart back to Felix, watching him cracking his knuckles nervously, his eyes darting from one side to the other, and something about his behaviour ignites a spark of uneasiness in him. 

The receptionist catches his attention once again, and to his relief, is able to give him the information and instructions that he needs. He returns to Felix and offers him a hand. The blonde's hands unfurl from each other as his hand is accepted, and Felix tugs himself to his feet. Woojin leads the way through the antiseptic-scented maze of white-walled corridors. "Since Jeongin was unconscious, he was treated when he arrived here. He's not in a dangerous state, but he's been moved to the coronary care unit. They want to keep an eye on his state before they decide it's safe to discharge him. Since he's only just come out of cardiac arrest."

Felix wrings his wrists absently, a dazed look in his brown eyes. "So are we allowed to see him?"

Woojin nods. "I didn't get too many details, since they're only allowed to say so much, but I think we should be able to find out more once we're there." Woojin leads the way into the ward, eyeing the nurses and residents rushing around briskly. There was a constant air of controlled urgency around the area, and while that was to be expected, it wasn’t necessarily the most comforting of atmospheres. Beside him, Felix clings to his forearm, his steps stiff and reluctant. 

They’re led into the unit by a doctor and then into a ward, and the moment they step in, the sight of wires and beds separated by curtains meet their eyes. Felix tenses and Woojin shifts to hold his hand. “It’s fine,” he whispers. “He’s fine.” 

The nurses and residents are busy monitoring computer screens and attending to the patients who Woojin couldn’t help but feel a semblance of pity for, them laying helpless on the beds with tubes and wires almost entangling them. It wasn’t a pleasant sight and the current of exigency rode strongly through the area. As they’re led to one of the beds nearing the back of the ward, Felix hurries forward and Woojin has to hold him back as he leans over Jeongin’s bed, meeting the younger’s surprised, foxy eyes. 

“You’re okay—” Felix stares at Jeongin’s face, slightly pale and drawn, but otherwise looking much healthier than he had been that morning. The younger's breaths come in slightly hoarse rasps, but for the most part he seemed fine. 

Jeongin's eyes shift down to glower at his own bedridden frame before he meets Felix's gaze again. "Sorry for worrying you, Lix…"

"Don't apologize, Innie," Felix insists, hesitating before moving to hold Jeongin's hand. His smaller fingers curl over the greyish appendage. "You couldn't have done anything about it. I'm just happy you're okay." He offers the younger a weak smile. 

Jeongin squeezes his hand with a substantial amount of strength, Woojin notes in relief. The youngest smiles. "I'll rest up and be out of here as soon as possible," he assures. Woojin, not having spoken a word thus far to the young man, instead observes closely and doesn't miss the flicker of resignation in the eyes of the doctor that had led them to him. When Woojin turns, the doctor returns to recording the progress on Jeongin's monitors. 

"What happened to him?" Woojin asks his voice quiet, so as not to disturb the pair.

"It's fortunate that you were awake when he went into cardiac arrest. He could have died if nothing was done for a few minutes more. We believe that there must be a cardiac embolism in his pulmonary artery caused by bleeding. How such a large clot managed to form without anyone noticing is amazing, honestly."

Woojin's lips curl into a frown. "Will he be fine?"

"It's most likely that he'll have some fibrinolytic or clot-dissolving medication prescribed for him. At the moment, we've only taken brief tests on the condition of the embolism, so the extent that we need to go to to remove it isn't yet finalized. If he takes the medication for a few weeks, it should minimize the clot enough for him to return to a normal lifestyle. If the bleeding persists and the clot isn't reducing effectively, then surgical extraction may be necessary. That's the typical method, at least, but first we'll do a few more tests to see whether an immediate thrombectomy is needed." The doctor nods. "Is that all you want to know?"

Woojin nods. "That's all for now." His eyes dart back to Jeongin, who is deep in some conversation with Felix, his eyes crinkled into a smile. He huffs softly and turns back to the doctor. "Thank you." With that, the doctor leaves the scene, and Woojin strides back to the pair of blondes. "I don't even get a hello?" He asks, mocking offense. "I'm the one that brought your boyfriend here, Jeongin."

The younger grins wryly. "That was extra credit, hyung, he'd run all the way here even if you didn't."

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" Felix huffs, his ears reddening. 

"I'm only telling the truth, Lixie," Jeongin chirps, shifting himself upwards against the slanted back of his bed like it was second nature. "You've done it before."

"Well don't just assume I'd do it again," Felix grumbles shyly.

"You wouldn't?" Jeongin pouts.

Felix crosses his arms over his chest and turns his head away. "Maybe I would," he mumbles, and Woojin laughs.

"Cute," he remarks, reaching down to ruffle Jeongin's messy hair. "So what's the business with you going around worrying us to death, hm?" He tilts his head and lowers his hand. "Jeongin, if you hadn't been feeling well, you should have let one of us, or at least Felix know," he scolds, not unkindly. "This isn't something you should take lightly. If Felix hadn't woken up when he did, we could have lost you." Woojin swallows back a shaky breath at the notion, his demeanour remaining perfectly calm.

The smile dissipates from Jeongin's lips and his gaze grows serious. "I know, hyung. I just didn't say anything because I didn't think it was anything. It's pretty normal for me to get tired easily and short of breath. I get chest pains sometimes, but I didn't feel anything like that yesterday. I didn't know…" a glimmer of distress shines in his dark eyes.

"That's all right," Woojin assures him gently, taking his hand and holding it in his own, frowning slightly at its coldness. He rubs the tips of Jeongin's slender fingers to bring back their circulation, speaking while he does so. "I know you sometimes can't help but feel annoyed or frustrated with how we're always concerning ourselves with your health, but that's because we don't want things like this to happen. At the very least we want to get you to a hospital as soon as possible if it's inevitable."

Jeongin stares at his hands with a lax face. His eyes come off as particularly fierce when his features are relaxed, and Woojin can't help but wonder at how much older the blonde looked when he was caught in his own thoughts. "It's..not annoying," he finally murmurs, looking away. "I always wondered what it'd be like to have a big brother, and I ended up getting six of them." He laughs ruefully. "And then I find out that I actually do have a big brother. And he's dead."

Woojin lowers Jeongin's hands into his lap as he catches the blood draining from Felix's face at Jeongin's words. The freckled blonde remains silent, perhaps so as not to draw attention to himself, but Woojin makes a note to approach him about it. He hadn't been present when the truth of Minho's death had been revealed to them. But his odd behaviour said otherwise.

He turns back to the youngest. "It must have been a shock for both of you," he hums. "It's fine if you haven't sorted out how you feel about him yet. As long as you've acknowledged his existence, you'll have all the time you want to figure out what you think of it."

"That's the thing, hyung," Jeongin breaks in after a moment of harsh silence, the beeping of the monitors cacophonous in the lack of words. "I don't know who to trust, Minho hyung, whose existence was hidden from me, or my parents, who hid his existence from me although they know him."

Woojin ruffles his hair again. "Don't break your head over it, Innie. Just worry about resting yourself up, all right? Get well enough to leave the hospital." He purposefully evades the subject, not wanting the younger to suffer from any more shocks than he already had in the span of a few days.

With a little convincing, Jeongin finally agrees to rest and with an exchange of 'see-you-laters' and a kiss on the forehead, courtesy of Felix, he's left watching as the two leave. The freckled blonde casts him a worried smile and he lowers his bed to lie down a little more comfortably to take a nap.

Upon exiting the ward, Woojin once again takes the lead through the tangle of corridors on the way to the hospital entrance. The atmosphere surrounding them feels lighter now, perhaps since Felix's worries had been quelled. After all, it wasn't exactly the prettiest scene, to wake up to one's partner with no breath or pulse. Woojin could tell from the blonde's shifting gaze and fidgety hands that he still wasn't too keen on leaving, although Jeongin was in a hospital and being cared for.

"Felix? Woojin?" What are you two doing here?"

The pair glance back to find Chan leaving a private room, a clipboard held in his arm and a surprised expression painting his features. There was vitality in his footsteps, which Woojin takes as a good sign. His eyes widen as he recalls that Chan's phone is still resting comfortably in the pocket of his jacket, and he quickly retrieves it, stepping over to Chan and pressing the device into his hand. "You forgot your phone at the dorm," he informs. "And Felix called you." He glances back at the younger as Felix hurries over. "Because when he woke up this morning, Jeongin had gone into cardiac arrest. He's in the CCU and he should be fine though."

Chan's eyes widen as he speaks, so Woojin immediately sets his sights on reassuring the man because the last thing he wanted was for Chan to overreact while on duty. The man kept himself under self-control for the most part, but after yesterday's unexpected episode, Woojin didn't want to give his volatility the benefit of the doubt. It didn't exactly help that Chan had a particular kind of almost parental concern for their youngest either.

"I'll go see him on my break," Chan decides, his fingers tightening over the edge of his clipboard. He frowns and pockets his phone. "Thanks for bringing my phone."

Woojin nods with a smile. "No problem. You still owe me chicken though."

"Yeah, yeah, you big glutton," Chan huffs affectionately. "I should be discouraging you eating chicken all the time, but that'd make me a hypocrite eh?"

"Yes, it would," Woojin happily agrees before turning and grasping Felix's wrist to tug the blonde along. "Now we should really get going. You're in the middle of your duties right now. We'll talk to you later." He pulls Felix out of the hospital and to the car. "You've probably already missed your schedule," he sighs, buckling himself into the driver's seat. "Do you think you're up to heading to the campus or..?"

"Probably," Felix sighs noncommittally. "I'll just get my things from the dorms and then head to the film department." He still seemed unsettled, and was far too quiet for Woojin's liking, since it meant that his mind was still dwelling on what had happened, but perhaps occupying himself with something else would do the blonde some good. 

Woojin walks with Felix to Seungmin and Jeongin's dorm room when they arrive, and Felix borrows Jeongin's key to open the door. The blonde pushes it open and the sound of hastily rustling sheets fills the air. Felix peers into the room before stepping in altogether. He tilts his head. "Oh, Seungmin, when did you get back?"

The brunette immediately turns to eye him dubiously from where he had been arranging the mess of Jeongin's bed. "That's a pretty unanimated greeting from you," he remarks. "I got back half an hour ago. What's with the company?" He looks from Felix to Woojin and waves in greeting before shifting his attention back. 

"We just went to see Jeongin in the hospital," Felix informs, moving to the youngest's desk to grab his things and toss them into his bag. "He wasn't breathing and had no pulse when I woke up, so I called an ambulance. He's conscious now though, and the doctors said that it was a blood clot that was stopping the blood flow to his lungs." 

Seungmin's eyes and he shoots to his feet. "Is he okay? Will he need to stay at the hospital?" His gaze darts from one to the other with far more distress than there should have been, all things taken into consideration. "What kind of treatment are they going to give to him?"

Woojin takes the opportunity to sit himself at Seungmin's desk again. "They'll have to do more testing to see if it's serious enough to be surgically extracted. Otherwise they'll just give him some clot-removing medication and he should be perfectly fine in a few weeks."

"Are you sure?" Seungmin asks. "They haven't confirmed what they're going to be doing yet, right?" Woojin shakes his head and Seungmin's face pales. "Hyung, who was the doctor that told you that?"

A confused frown curls over Woojin's lips. "I wasn't looking at the name...from the behaviour though, I can assume that it was a resident doctor. Still in training. Why?"

Seungmin shakes his head. "I have a really bad feeling about this, hyung…" He strides past Woojin to grab a manila envelope from his desk, and he waves it animatedly, a troubled look in his eyes. "I found this while I was cleaning up after the mess you and Jeongin made," he glances at Felix, who eyes him furtively, brow creased. "Jeongin doesn't hide many things from me since we're close, but I found this on the floor between his bed and the wall…"

Seungmin reaches into the envelope and pulls out a few blister packages of tablets which he sets on the table before tugging out a collection of papers. Woojin's eyes drift to the tablets and he lifts one of the half-consumed packages, eyeing the contents with apprehensive curiosity. He lifts his eyes to see Felix's pale face and he sighs. "Lix, come sit down," he insists. "I don't know what's going on either, so would you explain?" He asks Seungmin.

The younger brunette herds Felix to his bed and sits him down (which was to offer some comfort since he rarely allowed people that weren't Jeongin or Chan to sit on and—heaven forbid—make a mess of it) before slapping the papers within the folder atop his table for Woojin to look at. "This. This is...not really legal, but I guess you could take a look at it." He huffs wryly. "We've already breached enough regulations anyway. Anyway—" he lifts a pack of the pills and waves it slightly. "I had to find out what these were since Jeongin is taking them regularly and I just thought that he took vitamins and supplements. There wouldn't be any need for him to hide these. But they're not vitamins or supplements, they're immunosuppressants."

"Immunosuppressants?" Felix echoes suddenly, finally speaking again. He shakes his head. "He already has a weak immune system to begin with, why would he need immunosuppressants?" Woojin frowns, the tangible distress that rolled off the blonde in waves affecting him, and he wasn't even looking at Felix.

"It didn't make sense to me either," Seungmin agrees. "But then I saw these papers and…" he shivers, paling slightly. Woojin glances down at the papers on the desk, skimming over them. His eyes widen progressively with each facet of information. 

"What is this?" He asks, keeping his voice calm, although the writing on the wall wasn't exactly something to be calm about. "I...don't want to make any assumptions."

"How can you not make assumptions about that, hyung?" Seungmin asks, his voice rising slightly. "Immunosuppressants are necessary for people who've undergone organ transplants to stop their immune system from attacking a foreign entity inside of them!"

"T-transplants?" Felix stammers. "Wait— but Jeongin—"

"I don't know how he managed to hide it from all of us...or why he did," Seungmin mutters, raking his fingers through his hair in thinly veiled frustration. "But that's just the icing on the cake— this isn't normal." 

"It definitely isn't," Woojin agrees, eyeing the papers. "He's a regular recipient. But he shouldn't be. If he had a successful transplant when he was young, which appears to be the case," Woojin taps the papers, "then he shouldn't have needed to have these others."

"But—"

Seungmin breaks in before Felix can get a word in edgewise. "That's the thing," he sighs. "I'm— worried. I don't know what to think of him suddenly being in the hospital all of a sudden. It's awful but— I don't trust them."

"Guys!" Felix raises his voice, rising to his feet and bringing their attention to him. His eyes are wide and there's a glint of desperation within them. "What's going on? Seriously? What's wrong with Jeongin? He's not okay, is he?" Felix's hands find their way to Seungmin's shoulders and he clings to him. "What's happening to him?"

Seungmin meets the blonde's distressed, doe eyes and he breathes out a resigned sigh. Reaching out, he grabs for the papers and waves them at Felix. "These are a copy of Jeongin's medical records," he states his voice suddenly even. "He's had multiple heart transplants throughout his life, which is probably one of the reasons for his increasing frailty, plus the immunosuppressants don't help."

Felix's grip on the brunette's shoulders tighten. "Is this real?"

"To be blunt," Woojin interjects, "I'm genuinely shocked that he's been able to live for as long as he has. If it's a foreign heart that's been put in his body more than once, it's almost like poison. His body is constantly attacking itself, and only the immunosuppressants are lessening the blow. If he wasn't as tough as he is, he would have died years ago."

Felix's hands lose their strength at Woojin's words. "D-died?"

Seungmin helps the blonde to sit down again and settles down beside him, a grimace masking his face. “It’s terrible, but it’s true.”

“It’s his parents isn’t it?” Felix suddenly murmurs, his eyes wide. “His father is behind it, isn't he? He's the one that's killing people for organs, right? I overheard you guys talking about it yesterday. So that means that he must be the reason why Jeongin's like this—” Felix buries his head in his hands. “I should have seen something was wrong the moment we learned about Minho— I should have known..” 

The brunette rubs his back. “Felix, calm down. None of us could have imagined this. Jeongin hid this from us,” Seungmin insists, his eyes distant and troubled. “It’s not your fault.” 

“But what if Jeongin’s in danger?” Felix asks, tense. “Should we not have let him go to the hospital?”

“If he wasn’t brought to the hospital, he would definitely be dead by now,” Woojin states firmly. “That was no mistake, Felix. And I doubt that the entire hospital is even responsible for Jeongin’s state. A patient’s information is strictly classified. Which means only the ones that were watching over Jeongin and performing the operations were aware of this.”

“Bribery,” Seungmin realizes, his eyes widening, but before he can explain himself, Felix’s phone rings. The blonde fumbles through his pockets for a moment before tugging out the device to find Chan’s name flashing over his screen. Seungmin frowns. “Put him on speaker.” 

Nodding, Felix does just that. “Hey, Chan..”

“Hey, Lix, it's about Jeongin. There’s a risk of his embolism breaking and part of it going into his lungs,” Chan states. “The doctors have decided to go ahead with the thrombectomy, and he’s given his consent. They’ll be operating later in the evening.” 

The trio exchange a look, and Seungmin’s gaze drops to the screen of the phone again. “Hyung, it’s Seungmin,” he calls. “Are those the doctors that have specifically helped Jeongin before? Or had experience working with him?” 

“Yes, why?”

Colour draining from his face, Seungmin grabs the phone from Felix’s hand and shut off the speaker, instead holding the device to his ear. A stiff glower is etched onto his features, and the tension in his frame only grows. “Hyung, get Jeongin out of there if you can. Get him out of there  _ now _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens once again~  
> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter  
> Thank you for taking time out of your day to read it <3  
> Until next time~


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, and welcome to the latest chapter of this installment~  
> I assure you that for now things aren't going to be slowing down anytime soon, so please brace yourselves ^^  
> Thank you again for all your support and I hope you continue to enjoy~  
> Without further ado, let's head in!

The first thing Hyunjin thinks when he opens his eyes is that his bedroom suddenly looks very white. Very, very white. Unnervingly white. The second thing he thinks is _ow_ because he feels like his head is being steamrolled against a bed of nails, and it definitely isn't a pleasant feeling. He groans and covers his eyes, shifting against the stiff mattress beneath him. Sweat causes his shirt to cling to his back uncomfortably although the general temperature of the room was rather cold.

He shifts and feels a slight stinging tug at his arm. Now that definitely wasn't a characteristic of his warm, comfortable penthouse bed. Hyunjin's eyes fly open again only for him to flinch at the brightness that glares him in the eye. He whines and covers his eyes with a hand. After a few seconds, he lets his hand fall onto his stomach and he opens his eyes again. His brow furrows. This was definitely _not_ his bedroom.

He bolts upright only to wince and glance down at his left wrist, connected by a needle to an IV drip beside an almost hospital-like bed. His eyes narrow and his heart rate increases as he takes in his surroundings. It's such a small area that there was barely any vacant room to move around. Perhaps a few steps, but the rest of it was occupied by the bed, a toilet, a few odd looking monitors, the weird drip filled with something that was definitely not IV fluid. The door of the small barely-room was nothing but a wall of glass with a rectangular gap about a wrist's width. The transparency meant that Hyunjin can see out into the white area, a maze of corridors and other cell-rooms like his own. Hyunjin's eyes widen.

Ripping out the line from his wrist, heart hammering in his chest he leaps to his feet and darts towards the glass, raising his fist and slamming it into the wall. A sharp pain shoots through his knuckles, but fortunately his skin remains intact This was definitely not his room, nor was it a place that he wanted to be in. It doesn't take Seungmin-level braincells for Hyunjin to realize that he's been kidnapped. 

He swallows, feeling an odd burning at the back of his mind that he hadn't felt for a long time, and he reaches up to grip his head for a few moments, willing it to go away. When he manages to regulate his heartbeat and calm himself down. The glass was too thick for him to even hope to break through. He glances down at himself to locate his keys or some other object that might be helpful, but to his chagrin, he finds that he's no longer wearing his own clothes (those were expensive!), but instead is dressed in plain, teal scrub-like clothes. He frowns. That meant he had no phone to contact anyone with, and nothing to use as a tool.

Swallowing back that oppressive burning sensation, he shakes his head quickly like a dog shaking water out of its coat, and stalks back to the stiff, uncomfortable mattress. He sits himself down and takes in his surroundings again. This was like the devil's mix of a hospital room and a prison cell, and the sardonic part of him wanted to burst into laughter at that, but this was no laughing matter. That thought alone sends Hyunjin into a spiral of giggles anyway, and he covers his mouth, feeling rather nauseous. 

When the giggling stops, he frowns again and looks around the room. Those monitors seemed to be keeping track of his vitals, although there was no wire or pin on his body as far as he could tell. His eyes narrow slightly and he raises his eyes to the white ceiling, spotting a camera tucked inconspicuously in the corner. Typical. Hyunjin chuckles to himself and can't quite resist poking his tongue out at the camera before grinning and flashing a peace sign with his fingers. He laughs again before his humour fades as quick as it had arrived. 

For the most part, other then that awful headache and a bit of soreness from sleeping awkwardly on the mattress that felt more like cardboard, Hyunjin didn't feel too bad at all, which makes him chuckle slightly. It came as a surprise that nothing worse had been done, but only to his knowledge. There wasn't much to vouch for at the moment.

"Ah, I can't send Woojin hyung his good morning text," Hyunjin murmurs to himself under his breath, pouting. "Did I even get to send him a goodnight text?" He raises a knuckle to his lips in thought. "I wonder if he knows I'm missing." Cocking his head, Hyunjin muses over his own thoughts in quiet mutters. It was a habit of his to talk to himself, and while it had been discouraged by others, it had never once been judged by Woojin. 

Standing up once again, Hyunjin stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders. His eyes naturally find themselves on the camera and he huffs, offering it another smirk. He didn't know who was behind the lens, but he had a strong guess, and somehow that made him feel less frightened than he should have. It was much more gratifying to understand why someone would abduct him than to have no clue whatsoever. Hyunjin yawns and rubs his temple, hearing his stomach growl. Would he get food in this place? Who knew. 

At least he was alive. Hyunjin wouldn't know what to think if he had just been killed off the bat. Would he turn into a ghost like Minho? Hopefully not. Being a ghost didn't seem too pleasant, in Hyunjin's opinion. And he _had_ promised Woojin that he would try not to get himself killed. Hyunjin finds himself pouting again, raising his knuckle to his lips by habit. It wasn't fair, in his opinion. If he got killed, it wasn't as though he had meant to. But then again, he had promised to try not to die and not to actually not die. Different concepts. 

A glint of victory creeps into Hyunjin's eyes and he grins to himself. "So if anything happens, you can't say I broke my promise," he hums happily. He tilts his head and lifts his eyes to the ceiling again, eyeing the large rectangular tiles. If any of his snooping around Changbin's projects had taught him anything, it was that those should be removable, although how he would even get up there to remove one of those tiles anyway was beyond his immediate thought, and he couldn't even guarantee an escape route from that alone. 

With a sigh, he prances back to the bed and sits himself down, cross-legged, peering curiously at the screens of the monitors. It was interesting how there was nothing connecting him to them, and yet they appeared to be tracking his vital signs. He pokes at the screen and then pokes at himself. Tilting his head slightly, he pulls off the shirt and runs a hand down his abdomen. He frowns at the small punctures that he finds on his frame and realizes that it must be some kind of implant. He shudders with disgust at the thought, clawing slightly at his skin as though that could get rid of whatever they had put in him. Beneath his dull fingernails, throbbing, red lines bloom on his skin.

Abruptly he stops himself, lowering his hand stiffly and eyeing the curled fingers with a frustrated huff. No, none of that. That wouldn't work. "This isn't good.." he murmurs. That would only hurt him. And he didn't want to hurt himself. It would distress Woojin and likely Chan too. Hyunjin pouts and rubs at the scratch lines on his skin to ease the slight swelling. He throws on the shirt again and turns his attention to the IV drip. 

The fluid was an unnerving, vibrant shade of blue, and unless Hyunjin wanted to infuse his blood with blue curacao, he wasn't about to go anywhere near it. After all, Hyunjin was many things, but he wasn't a liquor-fanatic. He glances down at his wrist where the pinprick from the needle still remained fresh and stung slightly. He rubs the area with the pad of his thumb and licks his finger curiously. It didn't taste remotely of alcohol, so that could be struck off the list at least. 

He lifts the line and stares at it. It did seem to be good quality, so at least he could rest assured that he wouldn't get any kind of infections. It was actually a little odd, how perfectly sanitized the area seemed to be. Then again, if this was where he thought it was, then that made sense. 

His thoughts are cut off abruptly as his eyes widen and dart back to the needle again. Pursing his lips, he steals a furtive glance at the camera in the corner and shifts slightly to place his back obtrusively between his hands and the camera. He raises the end of the line to his eye level and stares at it for a moment before giggling softly to himself as he twists the needle off the catheter with a wrench of his wrist. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He shifts to cast a glance at the camera again before twisting the needle back into place once again. At least now he had something. He just had to make it inconspicuous so that no one would decide to take it away.

He taps his lips absently, pulling his knees to his chest. He was missing his classes, being stuck here. He frowns. Missing classes meant dropping grades, and while he was one of the rare few who could afford to pay for most of his tuition, he put genuine effort into his studies, even if he lost motivation a lot and procrastinated even more...and he still had that interdisciplinary project to do with Chan and Changbin. But he worked hard when it counted! He squishes his cheek against his knee, his brow creasing. "I can't even do homework?" He whines and rolls onto his side. "Not fair, I'll fall behind again!"

His cheek is met with the cool, synthetic fabric that covered the mattress which he swears is cardboard, and he stares blankly at the monitors. Maybe those would be helpful. They seemed complex, and that causes a spark of excitement to light in Hyunjin's chest, but he was a little busy moping over his lost time to do anything, and he wanted a physical idea of what he was going against before he actually took action. After all, he couldn’t just sit back and be passive. Maybe he should be a little terrified for his life at the moment, but he was too excited for that. And _that_ was definitely something that Woojin scolded him for. 

It unsettled him that he couldn't hear a thing in this place save for the occasional beeps of monitors and the creaking of the building itself as it rested. It was eerie, and Hyunjin who was a fan of having something around him to distract him from his own mind, found it discomfiting. He frowns and moves to the glass wall again, his eyes scanning his corridor. He purses his lips when he sees that the other cell-like rooms do indeed have inhabitants. Of the ones that he can see, a middle-aged woman and a young boy, both dressed in the same teal scrubs. Their IV drips match Hyunjin's own, but theirs connect to their wrists, and neither of the pair seems too keen on removing it. 

What unsettled Hyunjin the most is the blank stare in their eyes, a lacklustre, glazed sheen. No sound left them, although Hyunjin would have expected at least some crying or cursing at the bare minimum. It was like they were shells, and perhaps that was the most intimidating part of it all—how they had no will to fight back. It makes Hyunjin wonder just what had been done to them, and his mind isn't afraid to wander into the darker aspects of the possibilities either. Hyunjin rubs his forearms absently and pouts, backing away from the glass wall. 

He rests a hand on his stomach as an undignified growling fills the otherwise quiet atmosphere and he bites his lip. He hoped that they at least offered food in this place. Of course that was nothing but wishful thinking, but Hyunjin tended to not function without his precious food, and keeping his spirits up would be difficult when the deprivation of aliments made him terribly grumpy. 

Absently, his fingers curl in and he scratches at his abdomen again, a natural, reflexive movement in response to the knowledge of the implants in his body. He wonders if Jisung has the same implants in his. The perforations were so small that they would be unnoticeable unless someone was looking for them, so even while Hyunjin tried to recall seeing anything when he saw Jisung shirtless, he could not. 

The painfully sharp sound of footsteps breaks Hyunjin away from his thoughts, for which he should be glad, but that entailed the presence of someone who was likely permitted to wander around; someone who would clearly not be on Hyunjin's side of the circumstances. The hallways were not created to transmit sound well, resulting in the bluntness that accompanied each step, but Hyunjin supposes that makes sense. He doesn't bother fixing his IV, not wanting whatever that stuff was to be in his bloodstream. He was stubborn, but not stupid. 

The first thing that Hyunjin notices is the white doctor's coat. Hyunjin had never been fond of doctors to begin with, Chan being a rare exception, but even then he wouldn't be too keen on meeting with the blonde for medical reasons. So this was definitely a red flag already. There's a surgical mask covering the face of the man, middle-aged as far as Hyunjin can tell. The man is rather tall—falling only a centimetre or two shorter than Hyunjin himself —and somewhat lanky. A clipboard is held in the man's gloved hand, but since it faces him, Hyunjin can't see what's on it. Other than that, a striped dress shirt and trousers are the man's clothing, which reminds Hyunjin of someone else. However, the feature that catches him the most is the man's eyes. He stops short and stares at the familiar, narrow, vulpine eyes, his lips parting, but no words leaving them. 

When the man reaches up with a gloved hand to pull down his mask, Hyunjin feels his heart rate increase, and he knows the man can see it because of that damn monitor and that makes Hyunjin all the angrier despite himself, but he's rooted to the spot at the familiar face. Of course Hyunjin hadn't bothered to search for pictures since that wasn't what mattered to him as much as numbers did, but he's seen the news before and this man was definitely a common face to find. If there was own thing he could tell for sure, it was that Jeongin got his father's eyes. Minho had received the facial structure though, Hyunjin notes.

The man flips through his clipboard and lifts his eyes to Hyunjin once again. "Hwang Hyunjin," he greets, his voice surprisingly deep. Definitely nowhere near Felix-level deep, Hyunjin decides, but deep nonetheless. Not that it mattered much, since Hyunjin doubts that vocal-tone would have much to do with escaping from this predicament. 

"Hey, Mr. Yang," he greets brazenly, striding up to the glass wall, and flashing a cheeky peace-sign. "The bed is a bit uncomfortable and there's nothing to do here." He pouts. "I'm also kind of hungry, do you have any food?" 

He's aware that his behaviour was most likely expected after his impertinence towards the camera, but when he sees the glimmer of irritation in the man's eyes, he takes that as a small victory. The man glances down at his clipboard again and shakes his head. In a few minutes, there will be someone taking you for your checkup, and before then you won't have anything to eat. I recommend wearing your IV because that will be the only nutrition you'll be receiving until we fix your diet. It may take an entire day or longer."

"Sounds awfully professional for someone who probably wants to gut me like a fish," Hyunjin cuts straight to the point, having never been one for beating around the bush. He's met with an unamused stare and silence, which was both bizarre and boring to him so he sighs and waves the man off. "Sorry, I meant to say I'd rather starve to death." He smiles. "Thanks for the trouble though, it's very thoughtful of you."

He was probably wearing at whatever patience the man had, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to accommodate for whatever they were doing. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he could hear Woojin already scolding him for his rude behaviour and he pouts, raking his fingers through his hair. "You don't like me and I don't like you either," he states flatly after a few moments of stiff silence. "Unlike all your other poor victims though, I know who you are. I'm just a bit surprised you didn't kill me right away." He giggles at the thought. "Now that I think of it, it's an honour to have _the_ Mr. Yang going through all this trouble for little old me."

"We do the same for all of our merchandise," the man responds simply before turning away from him and pacing down the white corridor once again. "You're no different." Hyunjin watches as he moves to the next cell and does whatever it is he's doing with a frown. That was a certain threat, but Hyunjin, oddly enough, wasn't frightened by it. Being called merchandise was new, but Hyunjin was used enough to being called strange names. 

"Hyung, what would you think if you knew I was being objectified again?" He hums, his gaze growing distant. As his mind wanders back to Woojin. Ah, that was right, the man still owed him dinner and cuddles. Hyunjin nods decisively. He'd need to get out of here somehow, and soon. His life was running on a timer in this place, and while deadlines of any sort had never really bothered him, he knows that if he dies like this, it'll put the others in more danger than they're already in. 

He glances back at the monitor, and then at the camera. He sighs and pouts, sitting himself back on the cardboard bed and pulling his knees to his chest. This situation was so inconvenient.

* * *

Jeongin pulls at the cotton of his hospital gown with a grimace, the clothing far too large on his skinny frame. By now, he had already learned to deal with the discomfort and exposure. It was necessary to make things simpler for the surgeons after all. He fools about with his phone, cheek squished to his pillow as he feels his heart pulse conspicuously within his chest.

Stupid thing was causing problems again. He frowns and reaches up to grip at his chest with one hand. Breathing out a sigh, he closes his eyes and feels the rhythmic thumping. For all that the doctors were saying, he couldn’t feel any kind of arrhythmia. That was probably fixed by the paramedics on the way to the hospital anyway.

His eyes open slightly and he sighs, recalling the stunned expression on Felix’s face. Of course the blonde would have been frightened. It wasn’t new for Jeongin to pass out, but it may have been the first time Felix was present when his heart stopped. Jeongin wishes he could assure him that it wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but of course Felix wouldn’t listen. He cared so much.

Jeongin feels his heart warm at the thought and he sighs, unable to hide the tiny smile that crept onto his lips. Of course he’d care too much, that was who he was. Pinpricks of guilt stab at Jeongin’s chest and his thumb wavers over Felix’s contact. He wanted to talk to him. About everything. About Minho. Part of Jeongin wanted to keep it to himself; it wasn’t Felix’s problem, it was his own. He couldn’t keep relying on the blonde to pull him up and help him out. As much as Jeongin hated to admit it, there would be a time where he’d have to deal with serious issues without Felix at his side. If he wouldn’t learn to stand up on his own now, then he never would.

Jeongin shuts off the device and tosses it to the footboard of the bed, his brow crinkling. His health problems were the least of his worries at this point. He didn’t want to call his parents either, although he’s sure that the doctors must have already alerted them anyway. As though he wasn’t a legal adult who was capable of taking care of himself. As though he was some creature that needed to be kept in good health for viewing pleasure.

He shakes his head and rolls onto his back. That wasn’t true. He couldn’t think of his own parents like that… Biting his lip, he grimaces as his mind drifts back to Minho. Felix had gone into that house yesterday and had returned with a face like he had seen a ghost… Jeongin laughs softly to himself. Well, of course he had seen a ghost. They all had. 

Minho’s eyes still troubled him. Well, not his eyes—he had rather pretty eyes, large and expressive like Felix’s, but sharper and fiercer. Something about the look he always held in his gaze left Jeongin with a bad taste in his mouth. He rubs his temple. He was becoming as paranoid as Jisung now. Minho had yet to do anything remotely unpleasant to any of them other than shaking up Jisung a little now and then. Jeongin couldn’t even hold that against him, since they all had done the same to Jisung at one point or another.

Jeongin winces, resting his hand on his chest again. Another operation was nothing new to him, but it would be to his friends, he knows. He couldn’t afford to be treated any more like a porcelain doll than he already was. If they found out about this, then he really wouldn’t be allowed to stand on his own two feet any more. Perhaps that was what irritated him the most: never having the opportunity to prove himself, only allowed to do things that wouldn’t be hard on him and on his stupid heart. 

Working with children was his own little rebellion, and then dating Felix was yet another. They were his own choices, and not a guideline that he had been urged towards as his entire life had been. They were his own. But now, here in the hospital, being brought by an ambulance that Felix had called, no less, Jeongin can’t help but feel that soon his control over these small things would fade entirely anyway. 

He glances at the clock and frowns. They had scheduled the surgery in a few hours. It wasn’t an emergency, but it was close enough if they needed a short wait-time. As per usual. It was the same news, the same “we aren’t able to predict how your heart will react next” and “it’s safer to carry through with the operation.” At this point, Jeongin couldn’t even remember how many times he’d been cut open like an animal. And afterwards, he had been pampered to the point of madness. A showthing, that was all he was. 

Did Minho ever feel this way? Probably not, the man seemed to be healthy. He hadn’t died of illness and had a record of above-average health. He studied business, probably to take over the family business and become one of the most influential people in the country. He would’ve been up there, with Jeongin staring at him from behind closed doors like a pretty, fragile little thing. He would have been, had he not been murdered. By his parents. By Jeongin’s parents. 

A sudden wave of nausea crashes over Jeongin and his heart rate speeds up, the beeping of the monitors around him growing excruciatingly loud and erratic. Even that fades into white noise as his gaze turns black. In a few seconds, his vision returns, albeit blurred and he blinks, moving around slowly as though he was in a pool of tar. There’s loud and quick talking around him, and he feels himself being lifted up off of the bed, but he can’t tell what the words of the doctors surrounding him are. 

What happens next, he can’t recall, but with a lot of thunderous yelling that makes him claw at his head in pain and bite back his gasps, he finds himself in someone’s arms. The cold air hits his bare legs, exposed by his hospital gown, and he feels the uneven gait of someone running. He’s loaded into a car and before he can so much as cry out for help, his world floods in black. 

Chan wipes his forehead with the back of his wrist and watches them go before turning and striding back into the hospital, entering inconspicuously from the pediatric ward. His eyes meet those of the other doctor present and he greets her with a nod before hurrying to the computer room. He quickly searches through the lists and ensures that Jeongin’s name is deleted from all of them. Now regardless of schedule or not, they wouldn’t be able to delay the surgical schedules for Jeongin. 

He frowns and steps back, his eyes darting to the door distrustfully. He quietly passes through the corridors to finish his day’s work. And then he’d have to go find the others immediately. 

* * *

“Let’s get him to your place, Lix,” Seungmin states as Woojin presses on the gas and speeds as quickly as was legally possible away from the hospital. The brunette removes his glasses and wipes the lenses on the hem of his shirt while casting a glance to the back. “It’s off the grid so they won’t track us down easily.” 

Felix worries over Jeongin’s unconscious figure, adjusting his posture and ensuring that the impact of bumps on the road wouldn’t have too much of a negative effect. “Wherever we go doesn’t matter, we just need to get him away from there.” He swipes a hand over his eyes and narrows his eyes. 

“The road will get more uneven once we enter the rural area,” Woojin informs calmly. “When we do get there, make sure you keep him steady so that his head won’t be disturbed.” Felix nods in understanding, his arms already naturally moving Jeongin closer. This time he feels the thudding of Jeongin’s heart against his chest, and while it was far too rapid and strong to be good, it was less frightening than feeling nothing at all.

Seungmin riffles through the papers within the folder that he had taken borrowed from Jeongin with a frown. “We have so much evidence at this point that we could get the masterminds arrested,” he murmurs. He hides the papers in the envelope and glances over at Woojin. “Shouldn’t we just call the police, hyung?”

“The hospital is already in on it all, Seungmin,” Woojin states patiently. “What makes you think that the police wouldn’t be? Yang Enterprises is filthy rich. It would be child’s play to bribe them to do illicit transplants with a few millions of won.” 

A frown curls onto the younger brunette’s lips. “Even in a corrupt world, not everyone is corrupt, right?” He scowls at the envelope. “Hyung, there must be something we can do. Or at least someone we can turn to…” 

“Seungmin.” Woojin stops at a red light and turns to face him. “You’re being too impetuous lately, it’s not like you. Calm down.” When the light finally turns green again, his gaze returns to the road. “You need to remind yourself to keep a cool head and a colder heart, Seungmin. Or you won’t be able to bear the kinds of things you’ll have to face in the future.” 

“I’ve already faced things in the past…” Seungmin sighs. “But you’re right, hyung.” 

Woojin shrugs. “If things were as simple as alerting the police, then someone would have been apprehended already. You’re a good observer and you think well, but when you become like this, you can’t even form a single, sensible conclusion. I know you’re worried about Jisung and Jeongin, but you’re allowing it all to get into your head. Take a breath and clear your mind before you try to devise a solution.” 

The cool but stern words leave Seungmin at a loss, and for the remainder of the ride, he remains silent. 

Rolling into the small clearing wherein the cabin stands is a rather morose affair. Felix knows that Jisung won't be home at the time, but he doesn't have the heart to call the brunette and alert him of what had happened. He didn't want to accidentally spill something that he wasn't supposed to. Instead, he lifts Jeongin out of the car and carries the younger to the house on his back. Still unconscious, Jeongin remains silent and slumped against his back.

Before he can motion for Woojin or Seungmin to grab his keys, the door flies open and a wide-eyed Minho herds him inside, relieving him of Jeongin and laying the younger down to the sofa carefully, propping his head with a pillow to ensure that he would at least not come to too sore. Kkami, having briefly rested on the sofa, jumps off with a bark of complaint, but then circles on the floor and curls up again. Minho whips around to face Felix with a pale, drawn face, and Felix wonders why he had ever doubted the man to begin with. The worry written on his features was genuine.

"What happened?" Minho hisses, quietly so as not to rouse the unconscious man who at this point seemed to be deep in sleep. Felix bites his lip and runs his fingers through his hair, averting his eyes to the youngest's thin frame. 

"It's...a long story," Seungmin answers for all of them, striding into the house with Woojin following in his wake. Felix notes that his voice seems much more composed now. It matches the grave expression printed into his dark eyes, hidden behind his wire-rimmed glasses. 

"It looks like we have all the time in the world now," Minho drawls sarcastically. His gaze shifts from one to the other and eventually settles on Woojin. "Close the door. I'll get something to drink. And then I want an explanation." He frowns and turns to stare at Jeongin. "He seems to be stable, but that's not enough. I want to know what happened."

Felix watches him disappear into the kitchen and frowns. He seemed terribly level-headed, all things considered. Felix had expected a little more of a volatile response, but he seemed...almost as though he had expected for something like this to happen. Felix turns his attention back to Jeongin and sighs, moving to sit himself down at the door of the sofa near the younger's head. Hyunjin’s pup crawls into his lap and he moves to ruffle the dog’s ears. Even in Jeongin’s sleep, he seemed troubled. Felix wishes that he could quell whatever worries ran around Jeongin's mind, but even he needed to come to terms with the fact that there were things that Jeongin wouldn't immediately tell him. Not that he was much good at hiding it either.

Minho returns from the kitchen with coffee and a tray of biscuits and sets them on the coffee table before planting himself on the floor beside Woojin and Seungmin. Pursing his lips, he stares at one and then the other before his attention is stolen by Jeongin. His eyes soften slightly and Felix hides a small smile behind his fist. It was hard for anyone to not take one look at Jeongin and suddenly develop protective instincts towards him. He was just that kind of person. 

Woojin gladly takes a cup of coffee and lifts it to his lips before taking a slow sip. He's silent, eyes fixed on the surface of the beverage before he finally speaks. "Minho, it appears that things may be spiralling out of our control faster than imagined." His eyes shift to Jeongin. "This morning, Jeongin suffered cardiac arrest, so we had him taken to the hospital. There he was diagnosed with a pulmonary blood clot. The doctor had informed us that there was a chance he'd need to take a surgery." He turns to nod for Seungmin to continue.

The younger brunette crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. "When I went back to the dorm, it was a mess, so I was cleaning it up. And while I was cleaning up, I found something hidden behind his bed." He raises the envelope in his lap and tosses it to Minho. The man opens it in a single lithe movement and pulls out its contents with a frown. "It's Jeongin's medical records, including information that should be strictly classified. Of course, he's rich, so it isn't surprising that he'd be able to get a copy of them."

Minho's eyes scan over the documents with a frown. “Highly classified is right—but what the hell is this?” he stabs a finger at the donor sheets. His hand curls into a fist and he shakes his head. “Even the hospitals wouldn’t be this careless—where is the donor information?” His face pales and his eyes dart to Jeongin. “What have they been doing to him?”

“I...we don’t know either,” Seungmin admits softly. “But we have to keep him under the radar now. We can’t let him go back or he’ll be in danger. We only just managed to get him out of another staged operation. Judging from the inter-surgery timeframes, they would have given him another transplant if we didn’t get him out of there, and seeing how he’s not in the best state to begin with, there’s no telling if he would survive another one.” 

Felix winces at the misery of having to hear it all again, but remains firmly rooted to the spot, absently gnawing at a dry biscuit to keep himself somewhat occupied. Minho’s hands meet the face of the coffee table, the sharp sound ricocheting through the living room, startling Felix. His eyes fly towards Minho.

“I…” The brunette breathes in slowly and sits himself down again. “I’m not going to lose my temper,” he mutters. His gaze drifts from one to the other. “Knowing you all, I know you must be aware that having no official donor information for his organs means that they were procured illicitly.” His brow creases. “But if you just brought him here, that means you didn’t know that Black Tiger microchips all their red market merchandise.”

Woojin sits upright at that and sets his cup down on the coffee table again, his gaze fixed on Minho. “Why would they want to do that?” he asks, his voice guarded.

Minho sighs. “Once you get tangled up in the underworld, there’s almost no escaping it. Organs aren’t cheap, and many times the merchandise is purchased partially or fully on credit. Some people have tried to escape paying the ridiculous prices by fleeing the city or even the country, but because the merchandise is chipped, they can always be tracked down by Black Tiger.” Minho’s eyes narrow and he stands, passing by Felix to stare down at Jeongin. “If our parents find out that he’s escaped from the hospital because of all of you, then all of you are in serious danger.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that not only have they been illegally transplanting hearts into him for hell knows what reason...but they’re tracking him like some kind of animal too?” Minho’s gaze drifts down to Felix, whose fingers are curled around the leg of his pants. “What do they think he is?! Some kind of human experiment?! Is he even human to them?!”

Minho’s eyes soften when he sees Felix’s chocolate eyes glaze over with a semblance of tears. The blonde’s jaw tightens and he turns away abruptly, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Reaching down, Minho buries his hand in Felix’s hair, messing with it slightly. These people were all too _good_ for their own goods. By now it was only wishful thinking to hope they wouldn’t become too deeply involved, but now Minho had a duty to them. He needed to protect them. 

“Who knows what goes on in someone else’s mind, Felix,” he sighs, kneeling down and brushing away the beads of water from the corners of the blonde’s eyes. “What they think of him doesn’t matter. We won’t let them get their hands on him again—” 

The words barely make it out of his throat before a ringtone breaks the sombre atmosphere between them, and Minho glances back to find Seungmin scrambling around his pockets to retrieve his phone. The brunette frowns and answers the call. “Hey, Sung, what do you want?”

“Min, fuck—Min, something’s wrong—” 

Seungmin’s eyes widen. “Hey, Jisung, calm down, breathe—” 

“Breathe? Min, Changbin’s panicking, we’ve searched his dorm like at least a dozen times..”

“What do you mean?” Seungmin stands up and strides into the kitchen, staring blankly at the floor. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“We only found his macbook, Min, it’s broken, screen smashed and all—” 

“Whose macbook? Jisung, calm down and start at the beginning!”

“It’s Hyunjin, Min! We can’t find him anywhere—we don’t know where he is, and when we tried to call him, it said that the number we were calling didn’t exist! All we found was his broken laptop in his and Changbin’s dorm room!”

Seungmin’s face pales and his phone slips out of his grasp, meeting the wooden floor with a clatter that shatters his screen protector. 

“Min? Min! Wh—” 

“Leave the area right now, Sung,” Seungmin calls out hoarsely, hands curling into trembling fists against the tiles. “Take Changbin hyung with you and go to the hospital, Chan hyung should be finishing up his shift soon. All of you come back to your place.” He kneels down to retrieve his phone in shaking hands. “Hurry up and don’t call anyone any more. It doesn’t matter what or who, do not use your phone. Your calls can be tracked. Just get here as soon as possible.” He hangs up before Jisung can so much as give a word in edgewise, his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. He felt faint.

“Seungmin?” Woojin hurries into the kitchen and takes his hand, helping him to his feet. The younger brunette shakes his head and stumbles out of the kitchen with a white face, Woojin holding him from behind to steady him. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Hyunjin’s been kidnapped,” he announces softly.

Behind him, Woojin stiffens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just when things couldn't seem to get any worse...  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this and I hope you enjoyed it <3  
> Until the next chapter~


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, lovely readers, to the next chapter~  
> Thank you all for sticking with me for so long <3  
> This chapter is going to be a bit of a ride so please be prepared~  
> There's not much else to say other than thank you for the kind comments and kudos, so let's get on with it!

A million thoughts run through Woojin’s mind the moment the words that had erupted from Seungmin’s lips (far more softly than they should have) register in his head, the most prominent being that Hyunjin had been kidnapped. The skip in the beat of his heart slowly fades back to a regular rhythm and he raises a hand to rest over his chest, willing his rapid heart rate to slow. 

"Hyunjin?" He echoes slowly. "Kidnapped?"

Minho lowers his head into his hands and grips his hair in frustration, but Woojin can only stare blankly at the back of Seungmin's head, as though the brunette would burst into youthful laughter and declare that he had pranked them all. When the oppressive silence persists for just a little too long, he draws himself away from Seungmin, his right hand balled into a fist above his rapidly beating heart, taking with it his unfortunate shirt. 

"Y-you're joking, right? Minnie?" Felix rumbles, his voice lower than normal and his gaze guarded as he looks from one face to the other. "This— it's just a joke, right..?"

The tension between them rests almost solidly, and Woojin nearly feels suffocated by it. It was a rare feeling, one that he refused to feel often. For a few moments his throat remains tight and no words escape him although his lips part. He turns to face Felix silently before his gaze snaps back to Seungmin, who rests on his knees on the, arms outstretched and palms flat against the floor in weariness. "I really _r_ _eally_ wish it was, Lix," he rasps. 

A sharp intake of breath steals their attention as Minho rises abruptly to his feet. The man doesn't spare any of them so much as a glance as he trudges upstairs, and suddenly, despite the youthful face that remained since his deathday, his shoulders seem far more burdened. For the first time since Woojin had laid eyes on him, he looked his age, older than his face implied and burdened by the cruel weight of existence.

It was indeed a cruel thing, Woojin couldn't help but think, to still exist after one's death. If the end didn't mean escape. It was cruel, for this comical charade to decide that Minho should suffer witnessing the futility of his labour from so long ago. But perhaps it hadn't been fruitless, if Jisung was still alive. A delicate frown curves onto his lips, his gaze growing distant. Minho and Jisung aside, that still left the issue of Jeongin and the flagrant risk that his presence brought, as well as Hyunjin's absence.

Woojin covers his eyes and smiles slightly to himself. It wasn't by any means a mirthful smile. He had warned Hyunjin, but maybe he hadn't been vigilant enough for himself. The last thing he should have expected was for the younger to be careful, of all things. Careful and Hyunjin were just two opposite concepts that would never correlate. He should have known the moment he had dragged Hyunjin into this that something would happen to the man. Perhaps he should have never spoken a word of it.

"Hyung...it isn't your fault." A warmth removes his hand from his chest and Woojin's gaze comes to focus on Seungmin's worried features. The brunette frowns and lowers his hand from Woojin's. "I should have never sent him out by himself yesterday."

Woojin blinks owlishly at Seungmin for a few moments, puzzlement crossing his eyes. When understanding dawns on him, he shakes his head. "I...regret not insisting that he should be more careful, but.." a slight bark of laughter leaves Woojin's lips, "I guess there's not much we can do about it now." 

Seungmin eyes him skeptically. "Hyung…"

"Don't let him get added to your list of concerns, Seungmin," Woojin hums, his voice calm. "There are other things that we have to worry about right now."

Seungmin's eyes widen. "Hyung—"

"Forget about him for now. We have our own problems that need to be considered."

The glint in Seungmin's eyes sharpens into something incredulous. "Hyung, you're joking, right? Are you for real right now? You're telling us not to worry about Hyunjin when he's been kidnapped by the same people that…did _that_ …to Minho hyung? What if he's hurt?! Hyung, don't you care about what happens to him?"

"Minnie—" Felix jumps to his feet and grabs onto Seungmin's wrist, fingers clamping around it firmly to constrain the brunette. 

"Felix, come on, did you _hear_ what he's saying? What about Hyunjin? Hyunjin is in danger right now! You can't possibly agree with him!"

It was at times like these that Woojin saw the glaring similarities between the otherwise polar opposite Seungmin and Jisung. It came as no surprise to him that the pair connected so well, to the point of being bosom friends since childhood. He rests a hand loosely against his hip and eyes the pair coolly. 

Felix shakes his head. "I'm worried too, Min, but Woojin hyung would have a reason for saying things like that! He's probably the most worried about Hyunjin out of all of us—" the freckled blonde eyes him appraisingly, his words cutting off tentatively. "Right?"

"Wrong," Woojin responds with a sigh, sitting himself past them, on the couch by Jeongin's feet. When it comes to his attention that the hospital gown that the man was still clad it was less than adequate for heat conservation, he stands again and retrieves a blanket from the storage room. In the midst of the dumbfounded silence between Seungmin and Felix, he carefully drapes the blanket over Jeongin, his eyes softening when the blonde curls into the warmth. "I'm probably less concerned about him than all of you are." He sits down once again and lifts his head to meet their eyes. 

"Woojin hyung, this is Black Tiger we're talking about," Seungmin reasons out tensely. "We need to figure out where Hyunjin is and how we can get him out of there...if he's even alive…" the brunette shudders and Woojin can visibly see the blood rush out of Felix's face at the thought. He closes his eyes for a few moments before shaking his head and staring up at them once again.

"I know," Woojin admits. "And the first thought I had was how he must be in danger." He raises a knuckle to his lips. "But if there's one thing I can say, it's that Black Tiger has never dealt with Hwang Hyunjin before." A slight smile curls onto his lips once again and he chuckles. "I'm still concerned, but I'm not afraid. There's just something about Hyunjin. He'll be fine. I trust him." Woojin crosses his arms over his chest. "So for his sake, I'm telling both of you not to make him your top priority right now. We have other things to worry about."

"I can't believe you're really saying that, hyung," Seungmin mumbles, rubbing his upper arm absently. "Are you really not going to do anything about it?"

"If I did, I have a feeling that he'd be upset with me," Woojin hums. He eyes Seungmin carefully before offering him a reassuring smile. "It sounds like the most uncaring thing I could possibly say, right? But right now I have all of you to think about. Hyunjin is out of my reach whether I like it or not. There's no possible way for me to know where he is or how he's doing. I won't let something that's out of my control stop me from taking care of what I can. All of you are here, so now I have to think about how to keep all of you safe."

Seungmin frowns and averts his eyes. "But...you're still worried about him, right?" 

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

Seungmin relaxes slightly and breathes out a resigned sigh. "Sometimes I forget about how much all of you stress me out," he huffs.

"Funny that you'd mention stress," Chan pipes up from the entrance as Jisung flings open the door without a shred of subtlety. 

Seungmin glances over at them and frowns. "Could you be any louder?" He complains. "Jeongin's sleeping!" He strides over to them and eyes them before pushing Jisung aside (ignoring his vociferous protests), and meeting Chan's eyes. "And hyung, you look exhausted—you should go rest for a bit upstairs."

Changbin silently skirts past them to avoid the anxious wrath of the younger, instead sidling over to Felix and mumbling into the freckled blonde's ear, something along the lines of "scary boyfriends" and "is Jeongin okay".

"I think I want to know what's going on before making any judgements," Chan interjects, reaching out to rest a hand on Seungmin's chest and gently pushing him back. "And I need to check on Jeongin. The last time I saw him, his heartbeat was in haywire—has he been sleeping this entire time?" The man slips past them to kneel over Jeongin, quickly checking his breathing and pulse. 

“He has,” Felix responds for both of them. “Will..he be okay?”

Chan straightens up and offers Felix a reassuring smile. “He’s really a tough kid, isn’t he? His breathing is a little heavier than it should be. I think I’ll get some anti-clotting medication for him later just in case, but other than that he seems stable.” The blonde ruffles Jeongin’s hair and the younger stirs slightly, his eyelashes fluttering. Chan pushes himself to his feet and rests a hand on his hip. “So what’s going on?” He raises an eyebrow. “Jisung and Changbin practically dragged me here after my shift."

"And where's Minho?" Jisung inquires, peering around the area with a disgruntled frown.

Woojin and Felix exchange a look before the older of the pair turns to face him. “He went upstairs. He needed time to himself.” 

“Time to himself my ass,” Jisung mutters, feeling a spike of indignation pulse at his temple. He storms upstairs before anyone else can stop him and Changbin just crosses his arms resignedly over his chest. Chan purses his lips and glances down at Jeongin again before sighing. “...has anyone eaten dinner yet?”

“Chan, it’s too early for that,” Woojin points out, jerking a thumb at the analog clock. At the dejection on the blonde’s features, he chuckles dryly. “But I guess eating a little earlier won’t harm anyone.” He watches the blonde skitter into the kitchen and he glances over at Felix, Seungmin and Changbin. “You guys watch over Jeongin. I need to talk to him.” 

Jisung, upon stomping his way upstairs, flips the lightswitch to rid the corridor of the eerie glow that the broken sunlight brought as it streamed in through the window at the end of it. He frowns and approaches the door of Minho’s room, hesitating for the briefest of moments before blatantly grabbing the handle, twisting it, and pushing the door open.

He freezes at the glaring, pale skin that meets his eyes and stares blankly as Minho throws a striped dress shirt onto his frame, obscuring his slender back. Minho’s back is turned to him, and he stands stiffly in front of the closet doors as he changes. The brunette tilts his head back and glances at him with a disapproving frown. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“Haven’t you heard of locking the door?” Jisung retorts, earning himself a rolling of Minho’s eyes as the man’s arms shift, presumably to button up his shirt. 

“Haven’t you heard of personal space and common courtesy?” Minho drawls, tucking his shirt into his pants. Jisung’s eyes naturally follow the path of his hands before darting away because there was no reason for him to be looking there. 

“Haven’t you heard of my house my rules?” he retaliates, lips pursed. 

Minho strides past him, fingers grasping at his wrist and tugging him into the room before shutting the door behind him. The brunette whirls around and rests his hands on his hips, cocking an eyebrow at Jisung. “What do you want?”

“Does this mean I won?”

Minho frowns. “Won what?”

“The smart remarks conversation we just had.” 

“If there was an award for being an incorrigible dumbass, you’d be an unchallenged king,” Minho drawls. “And no, that isn’t a compliment.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Now, why did you just barge into my room? Did you want to see me naked that badly?”

Jisung’s eyes widen and his face turns crimson as his mind wanders to places where it really shouldn’t. He shakes his head, waving his hands defensively. “What— no! What kind of narcissist are you? Not everyone wants to see that—” he shudders, hiding his cheeks with his hands as his lips naturally press into an indignant pout.

Minho smirks and shifts closer to him, leaning in and causing him to falter back, tripping over literal thin air and sending himself sprawling over the mattress with a tomato-red face. The brunette chuckles. “You seem pretty excited about it,” he jabs, pressing both hands onto the mattress on either side of Jisung’s head, trapping him in place. Jisung stares up at him wide-eyed, his heart hammering in his chest from the unexpected advance, and he finds himself dumbstruck, staring at Minho with saucer-eyes and lips slightly parted.

In theory, this should have been simple. Storm into Minho’s room, get mad at him for a little while for no real reason, but because Jisung didn’t have anyone better to get mad at, throw a small tantrum and have Minho scold him harshly before storming out and complaining to Seungmin or Changbin. Straightforward. Of all the things that could possibly occur, Jisung certainly didn’t expect to find himself pinned onto the bed with Minho leaning over him with that damned smirk on his handsome face—

Jisung’s eyes widen further at his own thoughts and he suddenly grabs Minho’s wrist, throwing the brunette off balance and rolling away from him. Sitting upright on his knees and staring down at the man now sprawled on the mattress, he brushes his shirt down and scowls. “The hell was that?!”

Sitting up delicately, Minho brushes down his own shirt with a light hand and raises a sculpted eyebrow at him. Jisung offhandedly wonders just how the brunette always seemed perfectly put together, a little like Woojin, but a more condescending, irritating version. Maybe it was one of the perks of being a ghost, he thinks wryly. Minho stares at him unreadably for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. “I don’t know, Lee Jisung, what _was_ that?” he drawls mockingly. 

“I asked you first,” Jisung huffs, sufficiently flustered. He sits back and pulls his knees to his chest, eyeing the brunette distrustfully and willing his pulse to _slow down damn it._

Minho frowns carefully and then turns his head away from Jisung’s view. “What do you want? If you just pushed open my door, I really hope you had a good reason for it.” 

Now that Jisung’s head was clear enough for him to retrace his steps, his face reddens again as he realizes that there was no real reason for him to storm in on Minho. It was just his instinct now, whenever he wanted to complain or felt frustrated, he went to the brunette. More often than not it resulted in him venting to the brunette and receiving sharp admonishments for his troubles, but now it was instinct. Whenever something troubled him, he’d turn to Minho.

It was slightly dysfunctional, he supposes, how it always ended in arguments and anger from one or both of them, but in the end, it always happened. As though he trusted that Minho could take his outbursts and anger in stride. He shrugs sullenly. “I don’t know. I was mad because everyone was down there trying to figure things out and you’re just hiding up here because you can’t handle it.” 

The surprised gleam in Minho’s eyes catches Jisung off guard. He’s always painfully blunt with the man, so he doesn’t understand why now would be so different. Stretching out his leg, he meets Minho’s eyes crossly. “What? You’re basically the reason for all of this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, shut up,” Minho sighs. “I didn’t say anything. You just...didn’t sound mad.” 

“What about this doesn’t sound mad?” Jisung drawls. “I’m livid with you right now, I hope you know that.” 

“I didn’t even know you knew the meaning of livid,” Minho retorts smartly, earning himself a glare. He crosses his legs and studies Jisung silently for a few seconds before breathing in to speak again. “You’re awfully calm. Seungmin was causing more of a scene than you are. It’s like you two switched personalities for a moment.” 

Jisung grimaces. “His personality? No thanks. I’d rather dive into a piranha tank.” He sighs. “It’s because he cares about us a lot. He can normally keep his head on his shoulders, but once you interfere with the people that he’s close with, he loses his cool. It’s been like that since he was little.” 

"How gallant," Minho sighs. His gaze grows distant. "As long as he doesn't act before thinking." His brow furrows. "About Hyunjin…"

Jisung sighs. "Yeah, no. You couldn't stop him from doing what he wants even if you tried. If you think I'm stubborn, then you don't know him yet." At Minho's skeptical glance, he huffs. "Fine. We're both stubborn. But the dumbass seriously should know better than to mess with the goddamn _mafia_ …"

Minho smiles mirthlessly at that and shrugs. "It's like no one learns their lesson. Is he healthy?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?"

Minho's eyes brighten slightly and he sits upright. "Then there's a chance that…" he drifts off, the realization dawning on him that Jisung hadn't been present when the truth had been presented. He frowns. "Well, then there's a chance that he's alive. And a pretty big one." He purses his lips. "But I don't know where he is."

"Why would you?" The confusion in Jisung's eyes is evident. "It's the mafia, Minho, just in case you didn't realize." He purses his lips. "Unless there's something you're not telling me?"

"There's a million and one things I'm not telling you, Jisung, but I would have an idea of what's going on because the same people that killed me just _happened_ to be part of this mafia you speak of," he drawls. 

Jisung's face twists in puzzlement. "But you said your parents—" his words cut off as Minho nods sombrely. He feels his heart rate pick itself up in his chest until blood rushes cacophonously in his ears from the shock of the line that he finally drew between one and one. "Your parents—" he repeats, but can't bring himself to say anything more.

"That's right, Jisung," Minho states, keeping his voice level. He lifts himself to his feet. "And then I discover that my little brother has been out through a sickening amount of needless transplants with black market organs that have been microchipped, and his very presence here is probably a danger to all of you." He sighs harshly. "Is all of this just choosing to stay with me even postmortem as some kind of sick joke?"

"Wait—" Jisung's brain already overloaded with the information that was brutally presented to him in one go couldn't even hope to process a normal, incited reaction. "What— are you serious?"

"No, Lee Jisung," Minho drawls, his voice cloying. "Of course I'm not. You'll wake up and find out that this is all done kind of alcohol-induced lucid dream from some college party where you forgot to bring self-restraint." He sighs and turns his back to the younger. "Would I joke about something like this? Jisung, listen to me. I wanted to keep all of you away from this kind of circumstance, but I didn't know about Jeongin's situation. You would all have been pulled into it somehow, and your brother would be the one most at risk."

Whatever exclamations were prepared to leap off of Jisung's tongue slip back into his throat as his breath catches. Of course— Felix was closest to Jeongin. If he played his cards wrongly in a game he was completely ignorant of to begin with, he'd be dragged into a perilous place. Jisung flinches at the thought, finally understanding that no, this wasn't Minho's fault. They had all become entangled in a poisonous web the moment they had befriended each other. A morbid reality, but a true one.

"If you're going to suggest abandoning Jeongin, there's no way in hell we're doing that," he mutters after a few moments of stunned silence.

Minho blinks owlishly before whipping around to face Jisung and shaking his head fervently. "No! I wouldn't let you, even if you wanted to! If you let him go, who knows what our parents will do to him!" 

Jisung pauses before smiling slightly. He chuckles and raises a knuckle to his lips. "I guess you aren't a complete ass after all."

"Only to you, hon," Minho retorts, shaking his head firmly. "I only just got to meet him. I'm not risking losing him anytime soon." He relaxes and let's a slight smile curve over his lips. "I wish I could've seen him grow up. He must've been a cute kid."

"Yeah, but he'd never listen to us and he enjoys throwing our affection to the corners of the universe," Jisung huffs. 

"Well aren't you poetic. You and Changbin both." Minho smirks. "Would've expected you to be edgier with all your hiphop or swag, or whatever you kids like to call it."

Jisung shrugs. "I've always preferred lyrical rap, but I still have swag, you're just jealous. And you say 'you kids' like you're that much older than us—" Jisung falls abruptly silent as another realization dawns on him, and Minho snorts in amusement, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a good generation older than you, Lee Jisung. I can generalize you as kids if I want." 

"Damn, that's so weird," Jisung mutters, feeling his ears warm again. Now he was definitely the bizarre one for thinking strange things about Minho—but in his defense, Minho had been the one acting capriciously. At times Jisung couldn't tell what was going through the man's head, and it often resulted in strange behaviours

He lays back and glances over at the man. "So, old man—"

"Yes, whining brat?" Minho bites back, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. 

Jisung smirks slightly at the jab before letting himself relax slightly. "Do your friends know what happened to you? Or your girlfriend? Or boyfriend. Or partner. We're in a non-judgmental zone about that kinda thing." He squishes his cheek against the mattress and peers curiously up at Minho.

Jisung realizes he must have said the wrong thing when the good humour practically melts off of Minho's refined features. The elder of the pair shakes his head. "Of course they don't. And I didn't have a significant other at the time. I only had crushes when I was young and a highschool sweetheart." He turns his head away from Jisung with a shrug. "She was really intelligent and pretty. We parted on good terms, and she moved overseas after highschool to attend some art university on a fully paid scholarship. She just decided a long distance relationship wasn't something she could do." He chuckles softly. "We kept in touch though." 

For some reason, Minho's words irked Jisung, and he was clueless as to why, so he settles for a simple nod. The pang in his chest sets him on an edge and he fidgets awkwardly in the spot, unsure of what to say. 

In the silence between them, Minho breathes out a rough sigh. "At the most, they would have probably been invited to a phony funeral with an empty coffin and no viewing." He shrugs. Not that it matters after you've died, but it's like both me and them were cheated."

Jisung feels the lightness seep out of his body at Minho's words and he suddenly sits up, putting aside his pride to reach out and cover Minho's hand with his own. He feels the man tense under his touch and he feels his ears warming, but he ignores it. "Hey, as much as I dislike you—which is very much, by the way—I'm starting to dislike your parents a lot more." He frowns. "When we get Hyunjin back, we're gonna hold a proper funeral for you...or at least show some respect towards what really happened. Okay?"

Minho stares at him, wide-eyed, for a few seconds before a smile cracks onto his face and he bursts into amused laughter that crinkles his eyes and dimples the corners of his mouth, and Jisung doesn't realize that he's blatantly staring at the man. Minho covers his eyes with his free hand and shakes his head. "You're just full of contradictions, aren't you, Lee Jisung?" He lowers his hand and raises an eyebrow. "There's nothing to bury any more. And heaven forbid all of _you_ hold a funeral—"

"Hey, we'll figure something out," Jisung huffs indignantly. "Maybe we'll dig a hole and toss you in for a bit and then dig you out again afterwards."

"Whoa there, feisty aren't we," Minho drawls amusedly, wiping the beginnings of mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes. 

Jisung crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. "It seemed like a good idea in my head, okay! You're just jealous because you didn't think of it first."

Minho snorts and reaches up to pat him on the head. Naturally, he ducks under the man's touch. Minho chuckles. "Sure. You keep telling yourself that, hon."

"I will!" Jisung replies almost immediately. 

Minho's eyes soften for the briefest of moments, and Jisung silently curses himself for finding them rather...pretty, to say the least. They were large, pretty doe eyes, and although Jisung could boldly declare that he never had and never would take too kindly to Minho, he and Felix both shared some gorgeous eyes. Jisung claps his cheeks to snap himself out of his ridiculous thought processes, wincing at the subsequent sting.

"Hey, you good?" Minho inquires, casting him a somewhat concerned glance.

With a noncommittal shrug and a deadpanned laugh, he jumps to his feet! "Ha, yeah, I am. And you were so worried about me too. Aw, big, bad Minho is getting soft with me!" He pokes his tongue out at the brunette. "I'm going to go down and check with the others," he decides before Minho can get a word in edgewise. 

Without waiting for a response, he hurries out of the room and bites the inside of his cheek, grabbing the chest of his shirt and gripping it with a scowl. He inhales slowly to calm himself down and practically trips down the stairs in his haste to get away from Minho because the man was seriously probably bad for his health. He nearly falls flat on his face, were it not for the pair of lithe arms that catch him. 

He glances up at Felix's raised eyebrows and questioning features and offers him a lopsided grin. "Oh, hey, Lixie, fancy running into you here!"

* * *

It was quiet. Of course it was; it wasn't as though they were in the city or anything. But even so, despite the peace, Chan finds himself unable to sleep. The faint snores of Jeongin and Felix from the bed that he had insisted they share are what breaks the silence, accompanied every so often by the cicadas and the whispering of the occasional breeze. It's a clear night, but the air is humid with impending rain. It should have been a tranquil, relaxing atmosphere suspended in the comforting nighttime, but an uneasiness rests in Chan's gut like stone: cold and heavy. 

He shifts on the mat he had laid out for himself beside the bed, reaching out to check Jeongin's pulse for the umpteenth time, assuring himself that their youngest was fine. With a sigh, he flops down on the mat again, tangling his fingers in his curly hair and frowning. After a few moments of stillness, he sits upright, cross-legged and all. Something was off. He had always relied heavily on his gut instinct, and it was currently screaming something ominous. 

He winces and rises to his feet, groping about in the darkness for the doorknob. When his fingers enclose the cool metal, he twists it and opens the door, quietly trudging out to the bathroom and wincing at the loud creaks of his footsteps against the old wood. He shuts himself in the bathroom and flips the lightswitch before eyeing himself in the mirror with a frown. Running his fingers over the brushing of stubble on his chin, he recalls having forgotten to shave that morning. Pity that he didn't have his razor with him now. He grimaces again as nausea coils about in his belly.

A soft knock on the bathroom door startles him, nearly eliciting a yelp from his lips as he jumps back. 

"Hyung..? Chan hyung? It's me…"

Slumping in relief, Chan opens the door slowly and peers up at Seungmin's figure, the brunette dressed in Jisung's oversized clothes that fit him snugly. He offers him a vague smile. "Minnie, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Couldn't sleep," Seungmin admits, somehow sliding past the gap in the door and into the bathroom. He rubs at his eyes and frowns down at Chan. "Jisung started talking in his sleep...and he said a lot of disturbing things. I had to calm him down, but I couldn't fall asleep afterwards."

"Disturbing things?" Chan echoes softly, eyeing the brunette's tired features with concern.

"Some of it was just gibberish, but he said some things about 'it hurting' and 'so cold' and 'please stop, I don't want to see'...I think he was dreaming about his past, hyung, he looked so lost and in pain…" Seungmin's voice trembles as he speaks and Chan can't help but murmur incomprehensible words of comfort, reaching up to comb the brunette's hair down and tuck it behind his ears.

"Oh, Seungminnie…" Chan runs his knuckles over the brunette's cheek, a slight ache permeating through his chest as he sees Seungmin lean into his hand for comfort. "You've known him the longest besides Lix. It must hurt you a lot to see him like that." The blonde tugs Seungmin's head down to rest against his own forehead and he closes his eyes. "It'll get better, baby," he murmurs. "For you, and for him too. It gets worse before it gets better, but it'll definitely get better." He smiles faintly. "Jisung's a strong person. He's survived for so long. Even if he does remember who he was, he'll make it."

"I didn't say anything about him remembering who he was," Seungmin points out, his voice still quiet, albeit with a hint of playfulness that breaks through the disquiet.

Chan chuckles and moves back to stare up at him again. "You think two steps ahead, Minnie," he hums. "Don't think I don't know that much about you."

The brunette's lips purse into a thin line to hide his smile and he tilts his head. "Why are you awake, hyung? I heard a noise, so I went to check it out and saw you." He frowns slightly. "Is it your insomnia again?"

"Don't worry about it," Chan assures. "I got a lot of sleep last night, so maybe that's part of why I don't feel that tired right now." When Seungmin only crosses his arms over his chest and raises a skeptical eyebrow at him, he sighs ruefully. "All right, maybe I didn't sleep _that_ much, but I still slept more than usual."

"And you wonder why you're so short," Seungmin remarks offhandedly.

"That was uncalled for!" the blonde huffs. "It's genes, all right? Genes!" Seungmin's features break into a bright grin at his offense and and Chan can't resist smiling despite himself because the brunette just had a terribly contagious smile. 

Seungmin gathers himself and clears his throat, leaning back against the counter. "Really though, hyung. What's wrong?"

Of course. Perhaps that was both of their weaknesses, how they could somehow see through each other so easily. Averting his gaze, Chan smiles humourlessly. "Just...a bad feeling, I guess," he responds, resting a hand on his stomach. "Something just feels…off."

Warmth encapsulates his hands and Chan lifts his head to see Seungmin's hands around his own. When he meets the brunette's eyes, the seriousness in them both catches him unawares and comforts him simultaneously, as though he wasn't expecting Seungmin to take his intuition seriously regardless of how irrational it sounded. 

"What kind of off?" Seungmin asks. "The something wrong is happening right now, or the something bad is going to happen, or…"

"It...doesn't feel safe, suddenly, and honestly, maybe it's because of what happened to Jeongin and Hyunjin, or maybe it was finding out what happened to Minho that's making me feel paranoid…" he drifts off. "I'm not sure. Maybe the all of the above kind of off."

Seungmin chuckles and squeezes his hands gently. "Well aren't we the bearer of bad news," he teases, eliciting a huff from the blonde.

"Well, excuse me for being honest," he retorts gently, amusement glimmering in his eyes.

Seungmin nods. "No, I trust you." He sighs and throws his arms over Chan's shoulders. "Do you think we should do a round of the house? In case?" He glances at the door of the bathroom. "You never know. Maybe you or Woojin hyung left the stove on or something."

"Maybe," Chan muses. His own arms natural drift around the brunette's waist and he smiles up at him. "Why you always insist on staying awake once you see me awake, hm? You'll fall asleep eventually, baby."

Seungmin shrugs noncommittally. "Because I don't want you to be lonely while you're awake, hyung. I'm not leaving you alone and letting your mind go AWOL." He buries his face in the man's curly locks and sighs. "Have you been all right? Since you found out about…" he drifts off tentatively. 

"About Lucas?" Chan finishes gently, reaching up to bury his hand in Seungmin's hair, holding him close. He feels the brunette tense in his grip, and a pang of guilt strikes him in the chest. 

"Yeah...about Lucas," Seungmin confirms, the name resting on his tongue unsurely. He closes his eyes. "It's been so long since…" He drifts off again.

Chan sighs and stares past Seungmin and at his weary reflection in the mirror. "I shouldn't have lost it. I shouldn't have gotten angry. I just...haven't heard his name in so long… and I had to hear it from someone I didn't know. It caught me off guard." He pauses. "I'm...sorry if my outburst scared you."

He blinks owlishly as Seungmin's arms around him tighten. "Hyung, don't be stupid," the brunette huffs. "No matter what, I can't be scared of you. I know you're not that kind of person, but sometimes things just happen." The blonde can't help but realize that Seungmin is clinging to him, as though afraid to release his hold. "You've trusted me for this long, you can still trust me, right?"

A warm feeling of fondness washes over Chan's frame at the words, relieving his worries somewhat. He shifts to peck the brunette on the cheek. "Of course, baby. To hell and back." He shifts away from Seungmin and takes his hands, intertwining their fingers. "After all you've done for me, I'd just be ungrateful if I couldn't trust you." 

"Oh, hush, hyung," Seungmin mutters, meeting his dark eyes and searching them quietly. "Trust isn't obligatory, so don't talk like it is," he scolds. "Really, you shouldn't trust anyone in the world.."

"Seungminnie, my cynical, cynical Seungminnie," Chan coos affectionately, his eyes softening up at the brunette. Seungmin's face flushes a dark red at the sudden warmth in the blonde's voice and he purses his lips as the man's hand cups his cheek. "Sometimes you can't help who you trust, even if you know you shouldn't. But we're humans, we want to trust each other. That's why we're so afraid of it." Chan leans up to press his lips to the brunette's temple. "Though you've proven me wrong so many times that I can't help but trust you."

"Don't be cheesy, hyung," Seungmin mumbles, flustered. He hides his face in his hands, feeling terribly warm, right to the tips of his ears. When he hears the man chuckling, he only flushes deeper.

"But it's cute when you get all worked up," Chan teases, kissing the back of his hands. "I haven't gotten to see you so flustered in a while."

"That's because I keep telling you that you should focus on your studies and your internship!" Seungmin huffs, lowering his hands and meeting Chan's eyes. "You'll have time to do whatever you want once you're out of med school." 

"You're so stubborn, baby," Chan remarks fondly. "You keep up with your studies too. It's...going to be a little difficult now, most likely, but don't start overworking once you get back into the routine."

Seungmin frowns. "Of all people, I definitely don't want to hear that from you, hyu—" he pauses, his brow furrowing. "Hyung— do you smell that?"

Without waiting for a response, he throws open the bathroom door, wide-eyed. Running down the corridor, he screeches to a halt halfway down the stairs and sucks in a horrified breath, only to break into coughs as the acrid scent slithers into his lungs. He falters back, eyes darting around the living room area, ablaze, and catches sight of a figure, dressed in black, nose and mouth covered by a mask, escaping through the window. "Hey! Get back here—" he dashes forward again only to be stopped by the violent flames that eat at Jisung's canvases and art supplies, fulminating upon contact with the aerosol cans, igniting the dry, wooden furniture violently and encroaching on the hardwood floor, completely destroying the rayon carpet.

He backs into Chan, and glances up at the blonde, who stares at the violent inferno in horror. "We need to get everyone out of here," Chan gasps, shifting to cover his mouth and nose with his shirt. "Minnie, go wake up Jisung, Woojin, Changbin, and Minho. I'll get Felix and Jeongin."

With a frantic nod, the stifling heat wrapping him in an uncomfortable embrace and the stench of smoke creeping into his lungs, he coughs and stumbles up the staircase again. Bursting into Jisung's bedroom, he flips on the lights and runs to shake the brunette's shoulders. "Jisung! Woojin hyung! Wake up! We need to get out of here! The house is on fire!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this isn't just to make them suffer  
> (that may be a tiny part of it though...?)  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time~


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers and welcome back~  
> Thank you again for your lovely comments and your kudos, it's always appreciated~  
> Last chapter was a bit of a shocker, so I hope you're looking forward to this one!  
> !!PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION BECAUSE IT WILL BE A LITTLE GRAPHIC!!  
> Also, please don't do this at home :)  
> Without further ado, let's get into it.

It isn't Seungmin that wakes him up, but the racket from outside, the distant rumbling of an engine, the slamming of doors and crackling of flames, the sudden intrusive, stifling sensation that permeates so vividly into Minho's consciousness that he snaps awake, shooting upright on the bed, causing the still asleep Changbin to groan and roll over beside him. He frowns at the man and jumps out of the bed, rubbing his eyes and pushing his way out of the room.

The reflection of the greedy flames shine in his eyes as he peers down the corridor. Blazing orange, it crawls up the staircase and Minho wonders just why he had never bothered realizing how dry the old house was, to the point where it was virtual fodder for fire. Unaffected by the rank billowing of dark smoke, he turns tail and darts back into the bedroom, shaking Changbin by the shoulders. "Wake up," he mutters. "Wake up!" 

Had he blood in his veins or a heart in his chest, he's sure that he would be on the verge of overloading to the point of dizziness with blood rushing to his head. Fortunately, the lack of such things leaves him feeling rather cold and level. They needed to get out of here, but going downstairs was not an option. Gritting his teeth, he pinches Changbin's tricep sharply, causing the man to jerk awake with a yelp of pain. "What the hell—"

"Seo Changbin, get your ass off the bed and help me!" Minho snaps, rushing to the closet and tearing his shirts off of their hangers before promptly throwing them at the shorter man. "We have minutes to get out of here before someone suffocates or we all burn to a crisp." He throws a mask at the man as well. "The ropes are probably already burnt downstairs—this place is on fire."

"What—" the man squints blankly at him, sleep-disoriented and slow to respond. Minho ignores him and begins to knot his shirts together tightly, tugging them with a brutal grip to ensure that they were firm enough. He bites his lip, already hearing the commanding voices of Seungmin and Chan from the hallway, and the occasional yell from Jisung. He draws in a breath, a sudden urge coming over him to check on Jeongin. However, he trusts that someone else is likely doing that already.

"Wait—" Changbin gasps, his eyes widening. "The house is on fire?"

"No, Changbin, dear," Minho drawls, sarcasm dripping profusely off his words. "The house is cursed and is going to eat us all if we don't get out—I already said it was on fire, so hurry up and help me!"

His words finally seem to reach the man's mind and Changbin runs over to him, helping him knot together the articles of clothing. While it was nowhere near as convenient or safe as actual rope, Minho doubted that even trying to venture downstairs would yield any results. He bites the inside of his cheek with a scowl, his hands moving briskly to plait together the knotted, makeshift cords for extra support. Even without the help of artificial light, he could see the shadows cast over the walls from the ever-moving firelight, and Changbin's heat-flushed skin. While he himself was by no means affected by the temperatures, he knows that he needs to get them out of here as soon as possible.

"...this isn't long enough—" he realizes, his brow furrowed. He pulls off his shirt without a moment's hesitation and adds it to the cord before reaching out for Changbin's. "Give me your shirt," he states, his voice tense. The younger must have been too startled to make any smart remarks, because the next thing Minho knows, another shirt is in his hands. He tugs it firmly and rises to his feet. "...and could you not stare at me like that? Thanks."

Having to face everyone like this was something he would have never opted to do, but at the moment his pride was the last thing on his mind. He glances back at Changbin and sighs. "Get everyone in here. We're going out the window."

The man nods and jumps to his feet. Minho watches him go for a moment before fixing the makeshift rope to the bedpost. Wrapping a length around his wrist, he pushes the window wide open and hefts himself onto the sill, leaning back slightly to test for leverage. His brow furrowed and he ties another knot against the post.

Changbin knocks on the door of Felix's bedroom before pushing it open to find a wide-eyed Chan bent over a shirtless Jeongin, the youngest's chest heaving and eyes slightly glazed as he stares blankly up at the blonde, struggling for breath. Felix glances over at him with a haunted look in his brown eyes from the bedside and he snaps out of his startlement. "Guys, Minho says we're leaving from his bedroom. He wants all of you there now."

Chan nods, without sparing him a glance. "All right." He grabs a damp towel from Felix's hands and rubs down Jeongin's skinny frame with a brisk kind of professionalism. The youngest shudders, skin flushed an unhealthy shade of red, but face unusually pale. "I'll take him," he insists, lifting the youngest off the bed. "Both of you go."

Changbin nods again and then hurries out to Jisung's bedroom, pushing open the door without bothering to knock. 

"I need to get down there!"

Seungmin grabs Jisung's arms forcefully and heaves him back against his chest, locking him in place with his hands against Jisung's chest, constraining him. "Jisung, don't be stupid! It's not safe downstairs, who cares about the art, we need to get out of here!"

"You don't understand! You don't fucking understand!" Jisung hollers, tearing at Seungmin's hands with his fingernails, a wild gleam in his tear-glossed eyes. "Let me go, I need to get down there!" In the glow of the firelight, Changbin can see rivulets of blood dripping down Seungmin's pale hands from where Jisung had feverishly clawed at them. Seungmin barely shows any sign of pain, his grip on Jisung tightening.

"Maybe I don't fucking understand, but I _do_ understand that I _don't_ want you to burn to death!" Seungmin hisses in response. 

"Seungmin is right, Jisung, please, you need to be rational," Woojin pleads, he too making his best attempt to prevent the brunette from breaking away and running headfirst into sure injury, his eyes flickering over to the stunned Changbin at the doorway. Kkami whimpers in the crook of Woojin's elbow, the pup writhing around in attempts to escape his grip. Having two areas to focus on at once, Woojin releases Jisung to hold onto Kkami with both arms.

Seungmin's eyes follow Woojin's gaze and he breathes out a sigh. "Hey, Changbin hyung, can you talk some sense into him or something? Get him to understand that his _life_ is worth more than his art downstairs?"

"Fuck you, Kim Seungmin!" Jisung curses, "If you were really my friend you'd understand! You're going to let it all burn? Seungmin—fuck, please—please let me go!" he begs hysterically, pushing his way out of the arms of the brunette, only to be stopped in his tracks by Changbin and Felix, drawn to the scene by the commotion. 

"They're right, Sungie! Let's just get out of here!" Felix insists, grabbing one of Jisung's arms while Changbin grasps the other. Jisung thrashes between them and Changbin forces himself to look away as he and Felix drag the brunette to Minho's bedroom. 

The man glances up at the racket and frowns darkly at the sight of Jisung. He barely bats an eyelid at the hysterical behaviour and instead eyes Felix. "Chan's already taken Jeongin down with him. Get Jisung down next, and then all of you go." His voice remains eerily calm and his gaze is steady. "Hurry. And don't let him go anywhere." His eyes fall on Jisung once again and he only turns his back to the brunette's loud cries and curses.

In the end, Changbin had escaped with Jisung struggling the entire way down, but once the pair alighted on the damp grass, Jisung's voice faded out into silence, likely from exhaustion. Minho sends Felix down. When his gaze trail back to Woojin and then Seungmin, his eyes widen at the sight of the brunette's bloodied hands, but he doesn't question it. He sends Woojin off with Kkami hanging from the crook of his arm before turning his back to Seungmin and motioning for the younger to climb onto his back.

Seungmin stares at him for a few moments in silence before grabbing books from the shelves and papers from the desk, accompanying his envelope of Jeongin's medical records and immunosuppressants. After a moment of hesitation, he steals the crowbar from the ground near the closet and then lets himself be lifted onto Minho's back just as the vivid flames creep down the corridor. 

Minho grabs hold of the rope and grips it firmly before slowly lowering himself down from the window, careful to not harm the young man on his back with any jerky movements. The moment his foot touches the ground, the flames lick at his sheets, setting his bed on fire and burning through the bedroom. He breathes out a sigh of relief and allowing Seungmin to clamber off of his back. A short distance behind them the flames tower into the humid sky like a ravenous beast. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, Minho couldn't help but find it rather unfortunate that none of the owners had thought to install a sprinkler system. Not that it would have been much use anyway.

Minho unties his shirt from the end of the makeshift rope and quickly throws it on his frame not bothering to button it up. His attention darts over to a blur of dark blue as Seungmin grabs that damned crowbar and tears down the cabin door with a decisiveness that frightened Minho. "Hey! What are you doing?!" He yells, his voice echoing through the quiet forest, frightening the creatures awake.

Before anyone else could realize what was happening, Seungmin only glares at him and hares into the blazing house.

"Seungmin!" Felix screams, his eyes widening. He dashes forward, only to be grabbed back by a pale hand. 

"Lix— what the hell do you think you're doing?" Jeongin gasps, still held in the arms of a pale-faced, trembling Chan. 

Without sparing the youngest a glance, Felix rips his arm away from Jeongin's grip and runs after Seungmin who had yet to reappear from the violently burning home, flames reaching into the sky, drowning out the stars and illuminating the clearing. 

"Felix!" This time it's Jeongin's voice that resounds through the clearing, high-pitched, breathy and terrified. "Get out of there! Felix, please!" The youngest writhes out of Chan's grip, falling onto the damp grass with a wince and a pained gasp. Despite himself, immediately the curly-haired man kneels down to attend to him shakily, no words leaving his lips.

Jisung claws at his hair, gripping it tightly and staring at the grass with wide eyes, tears dripping down his shocked face to water the ground. "No— no…" he mutters before a few other incoherent words elicit from his lips. He shoots upright to his feet, but Woojin and Changbin both grab him before he can make any rash movements.

Within a few seconds, Felix reappears, dried tear tracks scalded onto his freckled cheeks as he drags out a bleeding Seungmin, the taller brunette gripping a partially burnt canvas tightly, a shocked expression plastered onto his swollen face. Jisung stares at them blankly, openly crying at this point as he pulls away from Woojin and Changbin to run towards them, helping them away from the fire. 

Minho promptly jumps into action again, his gaze narrowed at the sight. "Lee Jisung. Sit down. Changbin, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. You sit too, Felix. Woojin, please check on Felix for injuries." He removes his shirt again and approaches Seungmin, pressing the fabric against him to snuff out burning and singes. He stares at the brunette, who didn't appear to be better for the wear at all, part of his hair on the left side of his head singed to the scalp, which was beginning to blister along with the left side of his face, which bore the brunt of the injury. His arms also suffered, a violent red, and the bleeding of his hands only seemed to have worsened, staining his clothes. "Why the hell did you do that?!" He hisses, concern flooding him.

Seungmin reaches out a trembling hand to the canvas he had taken with him, the image on it partially seared by flame. Minho could vaguely make out a few colours, but the image was incomprehensible to him. The brunette's crimson-stained fingers curl around the canvas and he pulls it closer shakily, wheezing and breaking into coughs. 

"S-Seung...Seungmin.." The brunette lifts his head to stare up at Chan who gaped down at him, horrified and sickly pale. Minho sighs and presses his shirt over Seungmin's hands to staunch the bleeding as he sees the blonde retch slightly and cover his mouth from the corners of his eyes. 

"'m sorry, hyung," Seungmin rasps, coughing again and wincing. "Jisung's pieces were being destroyed— couldn't let it happen.." his gaze shakes and he looks down at the grass guiltily. Kkami pads up to him and whimpers, licking at his wounded arm. It elicits a wince from Seungmin, who shifts his hand to pet the canine reassuringly. 

Unable to stand the rolling waves of nausea that overcame his system at the sight and scent of burning hair, flesh, and blood, Chan stumbles lightheaded into the corner of the clearing and falls to his knees, beginning to vomit. Seungmin is about to stand, but Minho pushes him down and shakes his head sternly. Woojin rises to his feet and moves over to the edge of the clearing to help the blonde.

"Why was there even a fire there in the first place..?" Changbin mutters, his voice stunned. His eyes trail over to Felix, who nurses a violent burn on his right arm and foot, but for the most part seemed unharmed. 

"Hell if I know," Minho mutters in response, eyeing Seungmin with concern: the brunette looked on the verge of passing out. When Seungmin catches his gaze, the young man offers him a reassuring smile that dissolves into a grimace within a few seconds, and Minho's jaw tightens. "We should call an ambulance—"

"All our phones are still in the house," Felix murmurs with a wince, holding his arm carefully. Minho mentally curses at that, his eyes falling on Seungmin once again. It was evident that he, Felix and Jeongin needed medical attention as soon as possible. Minho's eyes widen. 

Jeongin. Of course, that had to be it. That was the only reasonable explanation. His neck turns stiffly, as though his joints were rusted, to face the youngest, who sides weakly over to Felix and worries over him, upset. That was the only way they could have been tracked. That was the only plausible explanation for someone who had ill intentions to locate them exactly in this place. His breath catches. 

"...trunk."

Before Minho can fully gather his thoughts, Seungmin's raspy voice steals his attention and he faces the younger brunette with a creased brow. "What was that?"

"Trunk," Seungmin wheezes. "Chan hyung...he keeps medical supplies there—" the brunette breaks off into harsh coughs as Minho eyes the SUV parked in the clearing with a frown. 

"I—I'll get it," Jisung interjects suddenly, his voice cracking as he rises to his feet weakly, not meeting their eyes. Seungmin stares at him silently and breathes out a sigh, turning his head away and hugging the canvas to his chest as though it were a precious thing. Minho couldn't understand at all why it was so pressing that Seungmin would run into a burning building for it, but getting angry would do no one any good, so he keeps himself calm. 

"You're all the stupidest children I've encountered," Minho mutters softly, addressed at no one in particular. It was somewhat odd, how relatively quiet they all were beside a raging fire, but many strange things had occurred ever since they had encountered each other. 

He hears a breathy laugh from his side and he glances over at Seungmin. "Says the one with the hole in his torso," the brunette mutters, and Minho eyes his abdomen. His shirt had been used as a temporary bandage for Seungmin's hands, so he no longer had anything to cover himself with, leaving his bones exposed in the light of the flames and the weaker light of the cloud-encroached moon. 

"I could bring up your injuries, but I'm nice, so I won't," Minho retorts softly, no real edge in his voice. He glances up as Jisung pads up to them with a large bag marked with a red cross. 

Seungmin meets Jisung's eyes and nods gratefully before shifting to present the half-burnt canvas to him. "I'm sorry, Sung, this is all I could save," he sighs before offering a wry smile. "It was your first one, right? Second grade of middle school."

Jisung stares at him blankly, the bag falling from his grip and onto the grass with a silent thump, drowned out by the crackling flames. His eyes well with tears and his knees buckle. Head falling into his hands, he sobs, heaving, ugly sobs. "Seungmin you idiot—I'm sorry—shit! I'm so sorry.." He grips his head. "Why'd you listen to me, damn it?! I'm a stupid, brainless dumbass, why did you do that? Fuck!"

"Stop cursing!" Seungmin reprimands sharply, the eye on the burnt side of his face weeping reflexively from the burning pain that throbbed beneath the blistering skin. Jisung automatically falls silent and grips his upper arms tightly, his eyes wide and his breaths heaving. Minho's eyes widen at the familiar sight of a younger Jisung, keeled over in a pool of his own vomit, chest heaving and eyes wide and haunted. He bites his lip and looks away. Seungmin sighs, shifting slightly with a wince. "Sung...it hurts," he mumbles. "It really hurts—"

"I-I'm sorry…" Jisung grimaces. "Fuck, I'm pathetic.."

"Yeah you are," Seungmin replies, his voice taut with pain. "Not even accepting the painting although I worked so hard to get it for you." He purses his lips and then gasps slightly at the lance of pain through his face. "The soul of an artist is reflected in their art, I know you were in a lot of pain just now, Sung." As he smiles, a crack in his burnt lip begins to bleed, the thin line dripping gracelessly off his chin. "I wish I could've saved more.."

"Min— damn it, you're worth more than a few measly paintings," Jisung whimpers, scrabbling at his watery eyes. "Fuck— what if I lost you? What then? What if we lost you?" 

Seungmin only shrugs noncommittally but this time before Jisung can say anything, Minho drags him away to the corner of the clearing. A pattering of water seeps through his hair and Minho glances up to find the sky murky with clouds, as rain begins to batter down. His gaze drifts to the house, and he sighs, watching the spirals of dark smoke pillar into the sky. The flames had eaten away at every area of the building. Minho supposes that the likelihood of his remains surviving was bleak. If anything, that only increased the thrum of urgency under his skin.

"So...this is what happened to you…" 

Glancing down at Jisung, who had naturally clung to him in his guilt and fear-induced stupor, he sees the brunette's blank gaze fixed on his abdomen. There was no fear or shock in Jisung's olive eyes, just a lacklustre, stare of dissociation. Jisung shifts away from Minho and reaches out slowly, to touch Minho's sternum, where his chest would have been. Minho tenses. "What do you think you're—"

Jisung tenses, his fingers curling into his palm. “I—” His eyes widen and he shivers as the rain shifts from a sprinkle into a downpour on them, soaking through his hair and dragging down his pyjama shirt. “I know...you.” 

Minho’s eyes widen and he scoots away from Jisung, his hands dirtying in the damp soil. “What? No! I’m…” He rakes his fingers through his hair and pushes his fringe out of his face with a scowl. “What’s your problem now, Lee Jisung? Are you hallucinating?”

The younger’s eyes widen and he suddenly jerks away, keeling over on the grass and vomiting. Minho frowns at him and glances back at the others to find Woojin and Changbin helping Chan tend to Felix’s burns. Seungmin is watching them silently, and Minho can’t help but give credit to the brunette; he had nerves of steel to still be conscious with those injuries on his frame. 

With a sigh, he shifts over to Jisung and rubs his back as the younger upends the contents of his stomach onto the sodden grass, his face pale and arms trembling. It was a little selfishness of Minho’s part, but he’s glad that something had interfered with Jisung recalling his identity. 

Chan tears off the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his tattoos. He wraps it around his nose and mouth to use as a makeshift mask so that he could at least stifle the metallic reek of blood as he stares at the blisters on Felix's arm and leg. He draws in a breath and closes his eyes as a wave of dizziness comes over him, but he feels a pair of hands steady him and he glances back gratefully at Woojin. Sucking in another breath, he relaxes and opens his bag. "Lix, I'll just wash your burns and bandage them since your clothes are going to irritate them," he murmurs, willing himself to keep calm despite the hammering of his heart within his chest. 

Just the sight of the reddened slightly blistered skin made nausea crawl up his throat and threaten to make him vomit again, but he closes his eyes and inhales deeply again. There was no one else to do this—by the time they drove to a hospital, there was a chance for Felix's blisters to burst and Seungmin's condition to worsen. Fortunately the blonde hadn't been inside long enough to bring any considerable damage. 

He tugs a large tumbler of water from the bag and carefully runs the water over Felix's burns. The rain was both a relief and a concern to him, as he didn't want to risk any infections, but at least it would assuage the pain somewhat. Chan grabs a container of petroleum jelly and gently smears a thin layer over Felix's burns before loosely binding them with a thinly woven bandage. 

Throughout it all, Felix remains relatively quiet, only wincing every now and then and letting out the odd grimace or groan of pain. When Chan finishes tending to him, he offers the blonde a tired smile. "Thanks, Chan," he sighs, pushing himself to his feet with a slight wince. Chan only sits him back down again. 

"No moving, you stay here and rest," Chan scolds, but Felix only shakes his head and stands once again, reaching for the yellow envelope, abandoned on the ground alongside Minho's books. 

"Innie needs his medication," Felix insists, hobbling over the grass to where the youngest sat with Changbin in the shade of a tree, knees hugged to his chest, shirt thrown haphazardly over his shoulders and not even buttoned up properly. 

Chan breathes out a sigh and stares at the trio for a few moments before inhaling deeply to steel himself and turning to Seungmin. "Woojin, there's an umbrella in the trunk, could you grab it for me please? Thanks." 

"Of course." As Woojin walks off, Kkami hops off of Seungmin's lap and runs after him on his small legs, barking rather loudly for such a small creature. Woojin pauses and turns back to scoop the pup into his arms, pressing a kiss to his little head. 

When Woojin moves off, Chan picks up the bag and steps over to Seungmin, his gaze becoming unfocussed as he sees the damage done to the younger. He stops and covers his mouth with his hand although it's already covered by his makeshift mask. His head felt oddly empty and as he steps over the sopping grass, he stumbles. 

"Hyung!" Chan finds himself caught in a pair of arms and he glances up to stare into Seungmin's disfigured face. His eyes shut tightly and the blood drains from his face as the image sears itself into his memory, and his legs weaken. The stench of blood and burnt flesh and hair crawls up his nostrils and weighed down his mind like lead. For a brief moment, his vision turns black. He can feel the brunette shaking with the exertion it took to hold him up and he quickly gathers himself, finding his weight and steadying himself on his two feet. 

His eyes snap open and he catches Seungmin just as the taller man crumples under his own weight, and when Chan's gaze drops down, his breath catches and a bitter taste enters his mouth as he sees the extent of the damage that was hidden before from the man's seated position. He gasps and fights down the nausea that crawls up his throat. Gently, he pushes the brunette onto his back with his brow furrowed. Minho's shirt, which had been used to staunch the bloody lines down Seungmin's hands had been discarded on the wet grass, forgotten by Seungmin's prompt action to prevent him from passing out. Here, without a scrap of fabric to hide behind, Chan could see everything. His vision blurs and doubles. "Seungmin, oh my god—" 

While Seungmin's face bore the immediate consequences of his actions, half of it discoloured and blistering, bleeding from where pockets of skin had burst, the damage reached down past the neckline of his shirt, which clung to his seared, bloody collarbone. The left side of his body bore the brunt of the injury, with his shirt singed and clinging to his body. From his foot, up the length of his calf were the charred remains of the rayon carpet, stuck to his blistered, scarlet flesh, exposed through the worst of the burns. Chan swears he can even see the frightening whiteness of bone peeking through the scalded red. While his right leg was also reddish and swollen, it was nowhere near as ghastly as the left, and Chan knew that there was no chance that Seungmin's body would ever completely return to normal. He reaches and turns away, covering his already covered mouth with a hand.

The brunette's eyes close slightly as the rain beats against his face, his skin throbbing with that excruciating heat that crawled beneath his skin and jabbed at him like red-hot needles. "I'm okay, hyung," he mumbles, his heart palpitating far too quickly to be healthy.

"No— no you're not okay!" Chan gasps whirling back to face him, and Seungmin feels a set of fingers curling around his shoulders. He winces and immediately the sensation leaves. He can hear the blonde's breathes, erratic and heaving. "Don't close your eyes— Seungmin, stay awake, you need to stay awake, please.." Seungmin's right eye, relatively unaffected by the burns, snaps open at that when he hears the terror in Chan's voice. He meets the blonde's sickened, _frightened_ gaze and he cracks another small smile. 

"I'm awake, hyung... I'm awake," he assures, his voice cracking from the dryness in his throat and the smoke in his lungs.

Chan covers his eyes with a hand and bites back a sob. "I can't do this— I can't—Seungmin…" Chan's breaths border dangerously on hyperventilating, his eyes wide and blank. It wasn't often that such a side of the man was shown, but then again, there weren't many times where he had to deal with something so bloody. While they were all aware of Chan's haemophobia, it had been a long while since Seungmin had seen it become so inhibiting. Seungmin knew that Chan would be humiliated by his own behaviour, but it was something he couldn't suppress. 

His brow creases and he winces again, reaching down with his uninjured arm to push himself upright. He gathers the blonde in his arms with evident effort and rubs his back. "Hyung...I'm okay. I'll be okay. I just need you to help me right now...please." He bites back a cry of pain as Chan's weight leans onto his leg. "Do whatever you need to do—" His voice twists with pain despite himself.

When Chan shows no sign of being responsive, save the faltering away from him when the blonde realizes the detriment of his weight against him, Seungmin's gaze darts around desperately. He didn't want to show pain in front of Chan when the man was already struggling to stomach the sight of him, but it hurt. The excruciating burn in his head was clouding his mind, and he was tempted to just slip into the comfort of unconsciousness, but he couldn't; Chan had asked him to stay awake. He couldn't feel his left leg, but his right one throbbed. His arm and hands stung, but they couldn't possibly compare with the numbing pain in his head. 

Woojin runs across the grass, Kkami rushing after him with a few loud yips, umbrella and a towel he had found in his hands. When he reaches Chan and Seungmin, he props the umbrella up to shield the brunette from the rain. He stares at Seungmin silently for a few moments before setting the towel on his chest and turning to Chan, the blonde trembling and gasping for his breath, tears budding in his eyes. Woojin pulls the makeshift mask off of Chan's face and grabs his head in both hands. "Chan, look at me!" He orders calmly.

When the blonde's eyes meet his, he draws in a deep breath. "Follow me. Breathe." He leads the man's breaths until they slow down and fall into a regular rhythm. "You're the only one that can help Seungmin right now," Woojin tells him calmly. "It's not going to be pretty, but you're capable." He searches Chan's slightly unfocussed gaze and breathes out a sigh. "Remember what you're doing this for." He breathes in deeply again when he feels the blonde tense under his grip. "I'll help you. Just tell me what to do." He releases Chan's head and pulls a pair of rubber gloves from the bag, snapping them over his hands. 

Chan closes his eyes and goes still for a few moments before opening them again. This time his gaze is cold and steady. His hands shake slightly, but Woojin relaxes to see the blonde looking much calmer. Chan stares down at Seungmin, his eyes wavering momentarily, but Woojin reaches out to rest a firm hand on his shoulder. He bites his lip and pulls a pair of gloves onto his own hands. "Seungmin, I'm not a licensed practitioner," he warns.

"You're the only doctor we have," Seungmin responds, his voice taut. "I trust you...besides, everything about the past few days has been breaching the law." He chuckles mirthlessly, his voice cracking. He coughs. "Hyung, I don't care—help me..please.." Kkami pads up to him and licks the uninjured side of his face. He huffs out an amused breath and reaches up weakly to ruffle the pup's ears. Dizziness was beginning to overtake him.

Woojin's eyes narrow. "Chan, we've wasted enough time— if he bleeds out any more—"

"I'll administer a nerve block. It's not going to be enough, but it's all I have and it's better than nothing," Chan interjects, his voice steady and cold. "Woojin, there should be a pair of scissors in there. Sit him up and get rid of his clothes, but if it's stuck to him, leave it and cut around it." He retrieves a syringe from the bag and affixes a fresh needle to the tip. He winces at the cries of pain that Seungmin can't quite keep back, but forces himself to keep steady.

Woojin frowns and squeezes Seungmin's good shoulder. "Sorry," he murmurs. "This is a really bad place to have to do this.."

"I'll take it over dying any day," Seungmin mutters, gritting his teeth as the fabric adhered to his skin tugs violently with Woojin's movements although the man was trying his best to be gentle. Woojin sighs and tosses Seungmin's shirt aside. Jisung wouldn't be using that anytime soon. Moving down to his pants, Woojin can't help but stare in morbid fascination at the worst burn, down through his skin, blackened and bloodstained, oozing pus with the remains of the carpet clinging to it in patches. It amazed him that Seungmin was still conscious, much less still running on adrenaline. He cuts away at the fabric.

Chan raises the needle, glancing back at Woojin just as the man tugs off Seungmin's pants, leaving him in only his boxers. He turns away momentarily before approaching the pair. "Hold this for me," he tells Woojin, handing him the syringe. He retrieves the towel and carefully pats at Seungmins skin to dry it as much as he could. He casts a glance around and let's his gaze fall on Changbin, who was currently tending to Felix and Jeongin. "Get him for me," he tells Woojin.

When the brunette leaves, Seungmin shifts slightly in the spot. "I'm sorry hyung… I— you—" he shudders and falls silent.

"Seungmin...I'd have to face it sometime," Chan murmurs softly, his voice taking on a soothing tone despite his obvious discomfort with the task he would need to carry out. "I'm sorry for worrying you at a time like this." He gently dries the skin around Seungmin's burns. "You shouldn't have done something like that, Minnie. If your injuries were any worse...you might not be here right now." His voice shakes. "I'm not going to let you go anywhere. I promised myself. I'm not going to let anyone else die in front of me."

"That's not how life works, hyung," Seungmin jokes slightly, his eyes closing again. "You're doing really well, you know. Right now I can barely tell you're afraid of blood." 

"I'm more afraid of letting you slip out of my hands," Chan states frankly, his voice soft. "After Hannah...after Lucas... I'm not letting anyone be taken away. I'll help you, and then we'll help Hyunjin." When Seungmin opens his eyes to stare at the blonde, he finds Chan's eyes closed. 

Reaching out with his good arm, he wraps his bloodied hand around Chan's gloved one and squeezes slightly. "We will," he agrees firmly, just as Woojin returns with Changbin in tow. 

Chan opens his eyes and moves away. "Changbin, make sure that the umbrella keeps Seungmin covered. I need his skin to stay as dry as possible," he orders, his tone growing hard again. "Woojin, give me the syringe. There should be a pack of scalpels and blades there," he states as the needle is handed to him. "Prepare a number twenty-two."

He turns back to Seungmin while Changbin quietly holds the umbrella over them, head turned away from Seungmin and face slightly pale. Woojin stares at the blonde's back, somewhat disoriented. Seungmin catches it and meets his eyes. "Twenty-two should be the largest blade there," he clarifies, ignoring the needle that hovers close to his skin. "The sharp side is curved and the back is flat." Woojin locates the blade and quickly fixes it to the spine with a pair of pliers before awaiting his instructions.

This was far from ideal by any means, needing to utilize the sparse resources that they had on hand to tend to Seungmin's burns, but Chan wouldn't let that stop him. He retracts the emptied syringe and passes it to Woojin, taking the scalpel and shifting to face Seungmin's back. "It's only a nerve block," he states. "This is still going to hurt."

"Better than nothing," Seungmin insists. His torso was already beginning to feel rather numb, the pain around that area decreasing into a dull throb. It rocketed through his frame to his head again, causing his vision to blank momentarily, but he blinks hard and forces himself to remain conscious. A sharp gasp leaves his lips involuntarily as he feels an odd, cold feeling at his back that sent a lance of pain through his abdomen. His jaw tightens as tears spring to his eyes. His left eye, already sealed shut by the blood encrusting it, waters profusely. 

Chan sends a silent prayer to his hands, willing them to remain still as he makes the first long incision, then the second, then the third and fourth. Fortunately it wasn't the type of cut that would draw blood, but the sight of it still made bile creep up his throat. He shakes his head slowly and lets his hands steady before cleanly shearing off the first portion of skin from Seungmin's back. Even with the nerve blocker, the brunette hisses in pain. He motions for Woojin to come and he hands the skin to him without a second glance. 

Chan frowns as he moves to Seungmin's leg. He needed more pairs of hands. His eyes dart around the clearing again and fall on Minho, nursing an unconscious Jisung with an uncharacteristic tenderness. He barely spares it a thought. "Minho!" He calls across the clearing. "Come here, I need your help!"

The brunette frowns and carries Jisung to Jeongin and Felix, laying him against the trunk of a tree. He hurries over to witness the scene and frowns, naturally moving to pull gloves over his hands. It was a strange sight indeed, for him to be dressed with rubber gloves without his ever-present striped shirt and with that gaping hole in his abdomen, but none of them could care less at the moment.

"There's ointment in the kit," Chan states. "Apply it to the skinned area on Seungmin's back." Minho nods silently and moves quickly to carry out the task. When the ointment touches his back, Seungmin hisses slightly. 

Chan turns his attention to Seungmin's left leg, grimacing at the sight of it. He dries it off again with the towel before carefully removing the charred, dead skin and bits of fabric with the help of some water. He glances at Woojin and nods at Seungmin's leg. When the skin in the brunette's hands is properly placed, Chan carefully stretches it over the wound. "Skin stapler," he states, and Woojin retrieves it for him, taking the scalpel out of his hand and replacing it with the stapler.

The blonde glances up at Seungmin to find his eyes closed, but his breaths still quick and somewhat airy. He was still awake. Chan quickly staples the skin in place. "Minho, bandage his leg. Do it loosely," he calls, handing the stapler back to Woojin and retrieving the scalpel once more.

By the time Chan finishes patching up the burn on the Seungmin's left arm and cleaning off his face, the brunette looks exhausted, his features slack and far too tired to even twist into a grimace of pain. He's swathed in enough bandages to look like a badly-made Halloween costume, and Chan wishes it was something so lighthearted. Not wanting to touch Seungmin’s face until he could properly numb the area, he forgoes that. Instead, he opts to move his attention to the blistering skin on the side of Seungmin’s head. He silently thanks every deity he could think of that Seungmin's hair was rather long, and so the flames hadn't actually touched his scalp long enough to cause serious damage. He dresses the spot with ointment before moving to bandage it for good measure. 

It was nowhere near a good job, barely passable and perhaps would need to be redone, but it was enough. The worst of the burns were covered, but much of Seungmin's remaining skin was left scorched and bleeding. But it was enough, enough to assure Chan that the brunette would live. 

Chan breathes out a sigh and looks over Seungmin's patchworked frame before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "You made it, Minnie," he whispers. "You handled it so well." When the brunette doesn't respond, he glances down at him, only to find Seungmin's head rolling limply against his shoulder. The brunette had finally passed out. It was a miracle that he hadn't sooner, if Chan were being honest with himself. He breathes out a sigh and carefully lifts him into his arms. Chan turns to stare at Woojin, then Changbin and Minho, then at Felix, Jeongin and Jisung. He frowns. "Changbin, let's go to your place," he decides. "It has the most room." 

"My dorm room?" Changbin queries with a frown 

Chan shakes his head. "No, your house. Let's stay there for now. Who knows if the dorms are safe. The kids need somewhere where they can relax a bit. We'll gather our thoughts and have something to eat, then decide what course of action to take next."

"I agree," Woojin concurs. "Your parents are out on vacation, aren't they? Surely they wouldn't mind as long as we don't cause a mess."

"Let's get them out of here," Minho agrees, glancing over at the three, sheltered by the shade of the trees. "It's pouring. If you all stay out here like this, you'll get sick."

Chan nods. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you take what's written with a grain of salt, I'm aware that it might not be the most accurate ^^"  
> Thank you kindly for taking the time out of your day to read this, and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time~


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, and welcome to the next chapter~  
> Once again, thank you all for the kudos and lovely comments too!  
> I don't have too much to say preceding this chapter, but I'm sure it'll speak for itself, so without further ado, let's go

" _The foot bone's connected to the leg bone...the leg bone's connected to the knee bone...the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone…_ " Hyunjin hums, popping his leg absently. In the silence of his cell room, his voice echoes as he fiddles with the monitors, trying to ignore the grumbling of his food-deprived stomach. Nothing much had changed other than his back becoming awfully sore after sleeping on the cardboard bed and his shirt that he had thrown over the camera in the corner. 

Of course he was trying to stay positive, but it wasn't so easy when he was food-deprived and his stomach wanted the world to know it. He jabs at the compact system with his IV needle in frustration. " _The thigh bone's connected to the hip bone...the hip bone's connected to the backbone...the backbone’s connected to the…_ ” His stomach growls and he pouts. “I’m hungry,” he whines, stabbing the needle into his mattress and flopping down on the bed. For the entire day, he had only been given water, and although it was pretty good water, it went down quickly. Not ideal.

His gaze drifts back to the IV, and at this moment it seemed tempting, but he turns his head away abruptly with a huff. There was no way he was going to put that in his bloodstream. He could hold out. He sits upright and stares at his monitors. Who knew that going a day without food would affect him like this? It was fascinating, but not so much so that Hyunjin would be averse to...playing around with it. He yawns.

Everything was so white. So boring. And it was a little cold, but Hyunjin’s shirt was currently serving a different purpose, obscuring the camera lens and thus hiding him from visibility. It wouldn’t be too long until someone noticed, but it could buy him enough time. He sits upright and pulls the needle out of the mattress, turning to the monitor. He smiles to himself. “ _The backbone’s connected to the neck bone,_ ” he chirps in accented English as he finally cuts away at the glue that held the casing to the monitor, revealing the processor. 

“Bingo,” he cheers to himself, messing with it. It wasn’t much, and there was little that he could do without a prepared software on him, but it was enough. He stabs the needle into the mattress once more and moves to mess with the wiring carefully. He laughs as the lines on the monitor glitch. For such high-tech looking machinery, it was rather simply manufactured. 

He tears out a few of the wires, and in that moment the screen does glitch and Hyunjin laughs to himself. He quietly rearranges a few, biting his tongue thoughtfully before quickly reattaching the casing and pressing it together. The slightest disturbance would probably make it fall apart and the lines remained redundant, glitching out every now and then, but Hyunjin lays back, relaxing. 

“Takes more than this to kill a bug,” he giggles to himself, reattaching the needle to the catheter and tossing it aside. He rolls off the mattress and hops up, grabbing his shirt from the camera and slipping it onto his frame once again. It didn't provide sufficient warmth but it was better than having the constant irritation of goosebumps on his skin. He lays down again and fiddles with the IV. Another yawn leaves his lips as his stomach rumbles. He pouts. 

The echoing of footsteps rising above the sounds of monitors beeping and the shifts and creaks of movement whenever any of the shells sharing this area with him decided that it was time to change positions. Hyunjin sits upright on the bed, swinging his legs slightly as he hears the footsteps draw closer, echoing hollowly in the lonely, white corridor. 

It's a woman this time, with a straight-edged bob cut and a mask covering her nose and mouth. A pair of rectangular glasses are perched on her nose and a stern air wafted about her. She's dressed in the white doctor's coat that everyone Hyunjin had seen wore, and she carries with her a clipboard. No water this time, so Hyunjin assumes that he's probably going to be examined.

How troublesome. He lifts himself to his feet, finding that he stands nearly two heads taller than her, but she didn't appear intimidated by him in the slightest. Hyunjin approaches the glass and lays his palm flat on in, eyeing her curiously as she punches some kind of passcode into a keypad beside his cell-room. To his pleasant surprise, the glass slides away like an automatic door giving him plenty of room to bolt if he wanted to.

Of course, he was impulsive but he wasn't stupid, so he stays calmly rooted to the spot, staring down the woman that had opened the door. She ignores him entirely and instead tugs a pair of handcuffs from her coat pocket. Hyunjin freezes at that, his face blanching as he retreats a few steps. Her eyes narrow slightly, but she rushes him with far more speed than Hyunjin would've expected for someone in three inch heels, forcing his arms behind his back and snapping the cuffs onto him. 

Instinctively, he tugs against the metal, his breaths quickening. The vitals monitor picks up as adrenaline spikes his systems and his breaths grow more rapid. His eyes widen and he lets out a gravelly hiss, thrashing in his restraint, An elbow to his dorsal knocks him off his centre of gravity, causing him to stumble out of his cell-room.

His blood pulses in his ears and his gaze shifts between focussed and unfocussed as his mind shuts down to the sudden sensation of reptilian fear that scours his mind. He stumbles into the wall, his temple violently colliding against the edge between the corridor and the entrance of the room. Skin splitting, a trickle of blood flows down his temple, staining his greyish face. A hoarse groan leaves his lips and he turns, head tilting as his wide, blank eyes meet those of the woman. 

Without a shred of emotion, his cuffed arm is grabbed in an iron grip and he's dragged in the correct direction, stumbling the entire way, barely coherent and unable to differentiate his surroundings. The only thought that crosses Hyunjin's mind is the cold, restrictive metals that encircled his wrists. Restricting his freedom. He gasps hoarsely as though he was being strangled by an invisible hand, sanity beginning to crumble, joints jerking haphazardly like it would remove the handcuffs. 

"Get those off of him before he hurts himself."

Hyunjin gasps haggardly, bent double as the constraints leave his wrists. His eyes regain their focus and he groans, staring down at the crimson drops that stained the white floor. His arms fall to his sides and he lifts the back of his wrist to swipe at the beginnings of tears away from the corner of his eyes. His heart palpitates in his chest to the point where he thought it wanted to escape his ribcage. Although Hyunjin was easily scared, it had been so long ago that he felt sheer, unadulterated fear. He had forgotten what it was to be afraid. His knees weaken and he crumples to the floor, lifting a hand to his head.

It's met with wetness and he lowers his hand to find it stained scarlet. His eyes widen and he touches his head again, locating the source of the bleeding. He closes his eyes, letting himself calm down in the privacy of darkness for a few moments. Only he bursts into giggles soon after, the heel of his hand still resting against his wounded head, chafe marks on his wrist from where he had nearly torn skin with his desperation to leave the cuffs. His eyes roll and come to rest on the two people dressed in doctors' clothing: the woman and Jeongin and Minho's father. The woman's features remain as deadpan as they were, but the man seemed somewhat disconcerted by his behaviour.

He laughs and lets his hand fall to his side, smearing blood over his scrubs in the process, down his chest and to his thigh; a serrated, reddish line that sat over the real fabric. He laughs until his breaths leave his throat as gasps all over again and he's forced to calm down for the aching at his abdomen from laughing. 

"Oh— oh, this is funny," he gasps, steadying himself and peering closely at the pair with slightly bloodshot eyes. His lips are pulled into a grin and his eyes crinkle as he rubs at the welts on his wrists. "You're so afraid that I'm going to run off that you have to try and hold me back." He giggles. "I underestimated myself, am I really that scary, Mr. Yang?" He wipes his eyes with a knuckle and calms himself down, a wide smile plastered onto his lips. "You should have killed me when you had the chance, don't you think?" He scratches his cheek with a nail. "But that's a waste of free money," he muses thoughtfully.

"Shut up or I'll have you gagged," the woman states monotonously, moving to a monitor in the corner of the room. At the sudden reappearance of dimension that had not registered in Hyunjin's mind previously due to his panic, Hyunjin takes in his surroundings. It's still that same, stifling, _painful_ white. An aluminum table sits in the centre of the room like an island and machines that Hyunjin feels tempted to take apart scatter about the area in an organized, minimalistic fashion. It's far too clean for Hyunjin's taste. Proper and stiff. Restraining. 

"You guys have terrible taste in interior design," he pipes up after a moment of resonant silence. His heart no longer thudded heavily in his chest and his head had cleared enough for him to revert to his devil-may-care attitude towards his situation. He could tell that both of the others with him were tiring of his antics, but it was the only thing that could let him retain himself in a place like this; this was a place that threatened to make him lose himself and become a shell, like those poor victims in the other cell-rooms. Hyunjin would be damned if he'd let that happen without a fight.

He doesn't fight much as his height and weight are checked, followed by his vitals and probably illicitly procured health records. He had no intention of trying to run off or escape. There was no chance he'd escape and if he made any attempt, he'd probably be placed on higher surveillance than he already was. The thought of losing what sparse freedom he clung to like a drowning man to a fragment of driftwood made his ears ring and his vision haze over in a dreamlike blur. It would be enough to drive him mad. 

"You will receive two meals a day once your diet is finalized," the man, whom Hyunjin flatly refused to call by anything else in his mind, announces simply. "You may have a meal in a few hours' time." He clips the papers in his hands onto a board and turns to face the woman. "Take him back to his room. And don't cuff him or he'll turn into a maddened horse again." 

"Well, what else would I be? I'm being fattened up and then gutted. If not a horse then maybe a pig or a goose," Hyunjin huffs, poking at one of the monitoring markers on his bare torso as the woman bandages the wound on his head. He peels it off and eyes it lazily. "Do people buy the flesh too, or do they just like organs?" He smiles. "How about eyes? And hair?" Reaching up to his eye, he pulls open his lids, peering at them with a cocked head. "I think eyes are very pretty, don't you?"

"If you're so desperate to lose your eyes, that can be arranged," the man replies tersely, scribbling down something or another on the papers. "I'm sure there'll be someone who will need them." For all his talk, he pointedly doesn't meet Hyunjin's eyes, resting comfortably under the guise of being occupied with whatever he was doing.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at that, but he doesn't have much of a chance to dwell on it as the short lady nudges him in the direction of the door. He follows meekly this time around, not wanting to risk being handcuffed again. His back turned to her, he allows his smile to fall from his features. Something didn't quite rest well with him. Of course, many things didn't rest well with him at the moment. This just stood out starkly from those things to the point where Hyunjin was forced to ruminate on it.

He's handed his shirt back only when he arrives at his cell room and is locked in once more. The tapping of the keypad sears into Hyunjin's memory and he stores it away for later. It was a pity there was no way for him to reach the keypad, the glass screen door far too strong for him to shatter. He smirks to himself and slips on his shirt. Maybe he could fiddle with the monitors and try to find some diamond fragments in the chips.

"Hwang Hyunjin, sometimes you really impress yourself," he trills, his eyes crinkling. Even if it was a tedious task, at least he could keep his hands busy. His gaze grows distant and he leans against the glass. That's right, he needed to busy himself. He did promise to try not to die. Letting them do to him what they had done to Minho was no option. He rubs his upper arms and pads away from the glass to the bed. Only three paces at the most. 

It troubled him, how _normal_ Minho and Jeongin's father seemed. With all the information and talk, Hyunjin would've assumed that the man was some kind of crazed villain with a thirst for cruelty and an insatiable sadism. Of course that may have been the result of watching too many dramas, but if anything, the lack of sadistic intent surprised him. He had only received the same head of Yang Enterprises that appeared in fancy conferences and newspapers and television, the same stern, businesslike personality. The same stoic character that treated these underworld dealings like another aspect of work. Nothing that he had certainly expected after seeing Minho's antagonized reaction to the very thought of him.

Hyunjin covers his eyes and laughs at the irony of it all. Of all the things that could possibly trouble his mind to the core, it was the sheer normalcy of a single man.

* * *

Changbin emerges from the bathroom with a frown, robe wrapped around his built frame. Towelling his hair, he approaches the bed where Seungmin lay, Chan insistently keeping an eye on him from the edge. It had been an unspoken consensus between them that the younger ones, Felix, Jeongin, Jisung, and Seungmin be immediately prioritized once they had arrived. The freckled blonde seemed to still be in shock, stumbling around and adamantly insisting that he was fine, whilst their youngest remained silent and pale, the youthfulness of his face doused in something sombre and unreadable. Jisung, who, according to Minho, had fainted, was taken to the guest room to rest his stunned body and exhausted mind. 

Here, Seungmin had been brought into Changbin's own bedroom, since he had insisted it would be the most comfortable for the brunette. In the clear light illuminating from the lamps on the ceiling, nothing was obscured any longer. Changbin almost hesitates as his bare feet pad over the soft carpeting to the bedside. His heartbeat instinctually quickens at the unsettling sight of Seungmin's unusually pale complexion, disrupted by the violent red that encroached on the left side of his face, neck, and part of his shoulder, a vicious branding that reflected the crimson flames that created them. From Seungmin's waist down, Chan had covered with only the sheets, and Changbin can see lesser burns peeling skin on other parts of his abdomen. His right arm had been patched by Chan and the staples that held the meshlike, perforated skin over the frightening burn caused a tingle of unease to crawl over Changbin's skin. Even then those only amounted to the worst of the violently blushing skin, blistered and ruined over the rest of his body.

Changbin wasn't even the one with an irrational fear of such things, but that was enough to make a bitter taste crawl up his throat and into his mouth. He shudders and swallows it back. "It...looks awful," he mutters, his gaze shifting to the curly-haired man who had not once taken his eyes off of the sleeping brunette. For a few moments, Changbin receives no response, but then Chan finally raises his head and turns to face him. The look in the man's bloodshot eyes evokes a sigh from Changbin's throat. "Hyung—"

"It's...sickening," Chan breathes out, his voice strangely mild. "It's so horrifying..." He sweeps his hand out over Seungmin's frame. "I hate it. I hate it—but at least he's safe now."

Changbin nods in agreement and sits down with the blonde, eyeing Seungmin's sleeping face, feeling a pang of pity spike in his chest and flow throughout his body. "Yeah. You saved him, hyung. I bet he's proud of you."

"Pride doesn't mean anything. Not if you're dead." Chan's eyes darken and he rises to his feet, covering his mouth with a hand. Changbin's forehead creases as he stares at the elder, suddenly worried that he would throw up once again. After a few moments, Chan removes his hand and rolls his wrist. A loud crack ricochets through the area and Chan frowns. "It must have been them again." His hands clench into tight fists, knuckles blanching.

"Again?" Changbin echoes, voice riddled with confusion. "Who? What do you mean again?"

Chan blinks and shakes his head slowly, breathing out a tired sigh. "What am I saying.." he offers Changbin a wry smile. "I'll try taking a shower. I feel pretty disgusting right now." He strides into the bathroom, leaving the raven to stare confusedly at his back. Pausing, he turns and peers out the door. "Keep an eye on Minnie for me, would you?" He requests before shutting the door.

The marbled floor of the bathroom felt somewhat warm from the steam that had accumulated in the rather large area (for a bathroom at least), since Changbin seemed to like his showers hot. Droplets of condensation streamed down the large mirror in rivulets. The reflective surface was mostly visible now, or at least enough for Chan to see just what a mess he currently looked like, dark bags under his reddened eyes, skin pockmarked by smoke and blood, rain-dampened curly hair more unruly than usual. His shirt, although black, seemed darker in certain areas. Chan's face drains of colour as he remembers Seungmin's bloody hands catching him, the fluid discharge from his wounds plastering onto his clothes. He gulps and covers his mouth again, his eyes widening. 

When he retches over the toilet seat, nothing comes up. The bitterness on his tongue remains, but there was nothing left to vomit. He groans and pushes himself to his feet, swaying slightly. The heat wasn't treating him too kindly either. 

He stares at his own wretched reflection again, and his gaze drifts to his torn sleeve. His tribal tattoos were exposed by that, black ink standing stark against his soiled, pale skin. He reaches up to grip his shoulder with a look of utter loathing in his eyes. Shaking his head, he tugs off his shirt. He wanted to burn it. It was ruined anyway, and the reek of blood would cling to it no matter how many times it was cleaned.

His hand shifts over his broad shoulder and onto his back, where the lines of ink swam over his milky skin like waves and morphed themselves into the image of a grotesque, snarling tiger on his shoulder blade, and down the line of his back. The demonic looking creature poised itself with a fearsome grace on his skin, forepaw planted on the bottom of his dorsal, just past the waistline of his pants. Chan's jaw tightens and he looks away from the mirror, his gaze hardening. For a brief moment, his nails dig into the the inked skin before he lets his arm fall to his side. He strips off the rest of his clothing and steps into the tub, running the water hot enough to make him wince.

He scrubs at his skin until it turns a tender, reddish shade, sparing no mercy from head to toe, as though it would clean off the feeling of Seungmin's blood on his hands. Of course it cleaned the blood itself, but not the seething, dripping, warm feeling and the sickly metallic scent. No matter how long or hard Chan scrubbed, it just wouldn't leave. He bites back the urge to scream and the movements of his hands slow to an abrupt stop as a line tears into his skin, beads of blood arising from the broken vessel. Chan's eyes widen and his heart pounds against his chest as he freezes, the hot water hammering down on his frame. "Get off...get off—get off!" He yells hoarsely at his arm, scrabbling at the wound with his nails, unintentionally widening the injury.

The door slams open and Chan's worn eyes snap over to where Changbin stares at him, wide-eyed. The younger immediately shuts off the water and grabs a large, fluffed up towel, wrapping it around Chan's shoulders. He keeps his eyes on the blonde's, a frown on his lips. "...I think you need to go talk to Woojin hyung," he states, pulling the saturated man out of the bathroom where he could keep an eye on him. Changbin hurries back to his closet and grabs some clothes for Chan to wear, since his sleeping clothes were filthy and torn.

Shakily, Chan dries himself off, his gaze resting a little too long on the scrape on his arm. His vision doubles momentarily, and Changbin rushes back to his side to steady him. With a bandage that he had retrieved from a medical kit in the drawer of the side table, he binds up his arm. Chan closes his eyes and breathes out an unsteady sigh. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, hyung," Changbin states, his voice low and gruff with concern. "You can't help what you're feeling. It's not like you could just change it just like that." He steps away to let the blonde change and turns his attention back to Seungmin to give him privacy. He misses the dark look that crosses Chan's gaze. "I can't understand because I haven't experienced what you have, but we all know you're trying your best." He frowns. "You've done so much tonight, hyung. Relax and let us take care of you now."

Head hanging and cheeks flushed with shame at the trouble he'd been causing, Chan grudgingly nods, pulling on the pyjamas that Changbin loaned him. Changbin offers him a wry grin. "Now go see Woojin hyung. He'd probably be better at listening and giving you proper help anyway. Don't worry about Seungmin, I'll keep an eye on him." His tone brooked little room for argument, and eventually Chan does leave the room.

"...is he gone…?"

Changbin glances down into Seungmin's brown eyes and smirks slightly. "You little troublemaker."

"Hey, there's nothing little about me, hyung...you on the other hand—"

"All right, all right, that was uncalled for," Changbin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you awake? You should be resting up. You look...roughed up." That was perhaps the biggest understatement of his life, but Changbin didn't want to disregard the obvious effort Seungmin was putting into keeping a lighthearted ambience between them.

"I wasn't sleeping, hyung, I was unconscious. And I don't think I can fall asleep right now anyway...it hurts too much." He smiles wryly despite his words. "And thanks for the sugarcoating." He winces and shifts on the mattress before gasping, tears budding in the corners of his eyes. 

Immediately, Changbin moves to rest a hand on the uninjured area of his chest. "Don't move. You're going to mess with the dressing on your back."

"I don't even know what pain to focus on," Seungmin laughs, dryly. "It's funny. I've never felt anything like this before." He laughs again, but it cuts off as an unintentional sob. He flinches and lets out a cry, biting his lip to stifle it. 

When Seungmin's teeth split his lip and a trickle of blood draws a line down it, Changbin hops to his feet. "Don't move too much. I'll grab you some painkillers, Minnie," he states. When he scuttles out of the room, Seungmin's jaw tightens as the tears he was holding back make an appearance. 

He buries his face in his sore, bandaged hands, salty droplets soaking through the gauze as muffled sobs pass his lips involuntarily. His head throbbed and the dizziness that it caused made him want to vomit. He couldn't feel part of his leg, but what he could still feel burned violently. It felt as though someone had run a barbed rake down his back and his arm felt uncomfortably hot. He couldn't move. If he did, a fresh wave of agony would course over him and his vision would turn blank. The adrenaline of the time had faded entirely, leaving Seungmin with only the brutal consequences. 

"Min…? Min!" Seungmin feels a pair of hands on his own, gently removing them from his face, and he stares up into Felix's chocolate eyes, ridden with concern. Chagrined, his face flushes and his hands jerk slightly in the blonde's grip.

"Leave me alone— don't look at me," Seungmin whispers, not having the strength to raise his voice. Hot tears burn down his cheeks, heightening his fried senses. He had seen his arm; it didn't take some kind of genius for him to understand that he would never look the same. He would be disfigured for the rest of his life. But it was Felix who had to see him like this. Felix, who had run after him despite the evident peril so that he wouldn't suffer the worst consequence of his actions. And Felix had been injured too.

The freckled blonde's eyes narrow slightly and Seungmin's pulse quickens when he sees Felix's eyes well with tears. "No— don't cry...Lixie, please—"

"You're safe," Felix mumbles, his voice somewhat gruff with his attempt to not shed any tears. "You're okay, you're alive, oh my god, Seungminnie, I don't know what we'd do if you didn't make it.." And despite himself, Felix bursts into tears, hiding his face in Seungmin's feeble hands. 

It was too much of a sensory overload for Seungmin, who still couldn't find a median between the burning pain that didn't seem to want to leave, the guilt of becoming deadweight to the others, the humiliation of being seen by them like this; Seungmin didn't want to so much as see his reflection in a transparent glass, much less a mirror. 

"I...don't know what to do, Lixie," Seungmin whispers, his distressed eyes watching the blonde, who still sobbed into his bandaged hands. Felix had a gentle heart—Seungmin's own rash actions shouldn't have made the blonde feel any kind of accountability, but he did. Seungmin feels his chest numb with guilt and he moves his hand away to tug Felix close to him although it entailed the man's hair rubbing against his blistered skin. "I don't regret saving Sungie's painting... he'd be crushed if everything was destroyed. But Lixie—I'm sorry. I'm sorry you ran after me. I'm sorry you got hurt—"

Felix looks down at his arms and frowns. "I'll be fine, Minnie. I got pretty bad burns last time too, when Jisung nearly burnt the kitchen down that one time…" he huffs softly. "I'm not sorry that I saved you," Felix mumbles against his shoulder, his glassy eyes fixating Seungmin. "You were in there for so long you could've suffocated, Minnie. You weren't coming out— I was scared. Jeongin didn't want me to go in, but…" Felix straightens up and looks down at him. "Chan had to take care of Innie— he had woken up from difficulty breathing and Chan had to shield him from the smoke. Otherwise he would have been the one to run after you." 

Seungmin's eyes widen. "Ch..an…" he bolts upright, nearly butting Felix's head, and a searing pain tears down his back. He lets out a cry, tears springing to his eyes, just as Changbin sprints into the room with a glass of water and painkillers. 

"Min, calm down," Felix hushes, holding Seungmin's shoulders, taking extra care with his patched up one. "Chan is okay. He's talking with Woojin hyung now because he panicked from all the stress, but he's okay. He's fine." Seungmin stares blankly at Felix, his cracked lips parting slightly but no words eliciting forth. 

Changbin tips the capsules into the glass of water and strides up to the bedside. He looks from one to the other before raising the glass to Seungmin's lips. "Hey, Minnie," he murmurs. "Here, take these." The brunettes haunted gaze drifts over to him before Seungmin just closes his eyes and complies with his order. Changbin tilts the glass to help him drink. It's a difficult task for Seungmin, who winces each time he has to swallow. Droplets of water trickle pitiably down his chin and cool the burning surface somewhat. 

Felix moves to wipe the water off of his face, and Seungmin averts his eyes. "Are you sure Chan hyung is okay?" He asks, as soon as the pulsating pain dulls down enough for him to not feel like he was going to rip apart with every little movement. His eyes darken. "Is he calm? Did he say anything strange at all?" The absence of a piercing pain seemed to have cleared his mind enough for him to gather his thoughts. 

"Strange?" Changbin echoes. "He did say something about it being 'them again', but when I asked him about it, he just told me he'd go take a shower." Changbin sits down on the edge of the bed. "He panicked in there and accidentally scratched his arm so I brought him out and told him to go talk to Woojin hyung."

Seungmin's lips curl into a frown and he breathes out a worn sigh. "Them again...huh."

* * *

It was quiet. Dark and quiet. Save the rhythmic thrum of the rain against the windows, there wasn't a stir in the room. Underneath the blanket, Jeongin's fingertips glide comfortably over the soft sheets, barely able to feel the fine weaving. The comforter that blankets him is warm, but not too warm, and surprisingly light. It's dark. There's a warm, yellowish nightlight by the floor, a long horizontal lamp that stretched nearly the entire length of the wall, shining with a dim glow. It's quiet. Even Felix, ever the avid snorer, was oddly silent in his sleep at his side.

Jeongin finds that he can't sleep. His mind is troubled by the happenings of the past few days. And he certainly wasn't oblivious to everything that had been happening. He sighs and sits upright, turning to eye Felix's peacefully slumbering features. In the darkness, it was difficult to make out everything, but Jeongin's eyes soften as Felix's eyelashes flutter and his lips move slightly. Reaching out, Jeongin runs his fingers through the blonde's hair, giggling slightly when Felix naturally burrows into his hand. The man loved affection in all its forms and easily gravitated towards it. 

Jeongin's smile dissipates as his gaze trails down Felix's frame to the bandages that wrapped his burns. He would have thought his heart would stop all over again, seeing Felix abandon him to rush into a burning building. Jaw tightening, Jeongin looks away. It wasn't Felix's fault, nor was it Seungmin's for running in first, or even Jisung, who had been driven to hysteria at his life's work being devoured by merciless flames. Jeongin reaches up to grip his chest, feeling his heartbeat against it. It was his own fault. 

Jeongin wasn't clueless. He was a good observer, which, in turn, made him a quick learner. His only Achilles heel was his volatile health. So of course he had blanked out when Chan had run him out of the hospital, but he hadn't been unconscious for long. And he had heard every single thing they had discovered about him. 

It left him both stunned and bitter, bitter towards the involvement of his family in these horrific dealings, stunned by the same thing. He had tried to deny it, but there was no other explanation. He had blindly believed his father, his mother, the doctors, the people that had crippled his health for life. The people he had trusted. Perhaps he could have been a healthy child. Maybe he could have had a chance at being normal. Maybe he wouldn't have put all of them in danger if he didn't have this stupid heart in his chest that wasn't even his own. Maybe Jisung's diligence wouldn't have gone to waste, maybe Seungmin wouldn't have suffered the horrific wounds that he did, maybe Felix wouldn't be injured. His heartbeat races within his chest and his breaths leave his lips in small gasps. 

"Mm…. Innie…?" 

Jeongin's narrow eyes dart back to Felix as the blonde's lashes flutter once again. He finds glimmering eyes peering up at him sleepily and he just leans down to press a kiss to the side of Felix's head. He smiles weakly against Felix's soft hair. It smelled clean and floral. The mellow scent calms him somewhat and he closes his eyes. "Go back to sleep, Lixie," he whispers. "It's almost morning."

"Don't...wanna.." Jeongin brushes his fingers through Felix's hair rhythmically, watching the blonde slowly slip back into dreamland. His eyes narrow and his features curl into a frown. He couldn't. He couldn't let them keep taking care of him like this, not when it was quite literally putting their lives on the line. He didn't want to imagine what would have happened if Chan or Seungmin weren't awake at those ungodly hours. Perhaps none of them would be here right now. Choked to death by smoke or eaten alive by fire.

Swallowing back a hard breath, Jeongin glances back at Felix again, at his wounded arms and flushed face, at his messy hair and childlike innocence of his sleeping features. Leaning over, Jeongin presses a soft peck to his lips, smiling against the warm skin. "Don't get hurt again, okay?" He murmurs. "Okay." He moves back and plants a last kiss atop Felix's messy hair.

Jeongin shifts, setting his feet on the floor, hand still gripping at his shirt in front of his chest. His eyes dart from one area of the room to the other and he locates the orange envelope on the dresser. Quietly, he pads over the carpet, heart still hammering within his chest. He pauses before the dresser and closes his eyes, leaning against the furniture to catch his breath. He frowns and grabs the envelope, opening it and grabbing his immunosuppressants. He tenses as he hears the bed creak, and catches a glimpse of Felix shifting. When the blonde doesn't move more, he breathes out a relieved sigh and sets the envelope back on the dresser. 

Escaping the room, he treads lightly over the cold, tiled floor of the wide corridor. He needed to get out of here. There was no chance they could be remotely safe as long as he was here, so he needed to leave. And he needed to do it before anyone noticed. 

Quietly, he pads over the hallway, footsteps sharp against the marbled floor. Feeling about in the darkness, he locates the landline and grips it in his hands, dialling a number. Holding the device to his ear, he waits impatiently, glancing back every now and then for fear that someone would catch him. He swallows back his apprehension and silently apologizes to all of them for the trouble that his disappearance would cause. It would be less trouble than his presence, so he comforted himself with that

When his call is finally answered, he breathes out a tentative sigh. "Hello? Yes, it's me... Jeongin. Could you come pick me up, please? I'm tired. I want to go home."

He hangs up the phone. He had not given his location to them. If they found him, it would confirm his suspicions. He glances back a last time, hesitating, before darting to the door, opening it and slipping outside. He runs to the elevator, stepping inside and pushing the button for the ground floor. 

Standing in the corner, he grips his chest, breathing out heavily. It still hurt, the stupid thing…each breath felt as though he was swallowing gravel. Shaking his head, he hurries out of the building, barefoot and all since he didn't have a pair of shoes with him. Holding his medication to his chest, he looks around the area, barely illuminated by the fancy streetlights, saturated in the steady rain, and begins to trudge down the pavement for the nearest bus stop. 

Almost on cue, the sound of a rumbling engine breaks through the placid night. Jeongin’s eyes narrow at the distance when he catches sight of the headlights and he bites the inside of his cheek. So they had been tracking him after all. Raising a hand, he grips his shirt above his chest tightly, his eyes narrowing. If they wanted to do anything to him, he couldn’t even assure himself that he’d be able to defend himself properly. But that was fine. They were keeping him alive for a reason, otherwise he would have been dead long ago.

He stands and waits for the driver to open the door for him. Nodding thankfully, he steps inside and buckles his seatbelt without so much as a word. As he’s driven off, he glances back a last time. At least now their movements wouldn’t be tracked down anymore. At least for now, they could be safe.

Despite that, Jeongin couldn’t wash off the unease that bubbled in his gut, of having to see the people who had destroyed his health and committed many other illicit acts. It wasn’t the first time he had felt the estranged emptiness of not wanting to return home, but it was certainly the first time where the thought of going home frightened him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few very important details were hidden in this chapter, did you catch them~?  
> All the intuition I've been seeing in the past comments surprised me, so I don't doubt that you might have~  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this and I hope you enjoyed!  
> Until next time <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful readers~  
> Thank you all kindly for sticking with me this long ^^  
> The next chapter is here, I hope you enjoy  
> Without further ado, lets go~

Not once had Jisung regained consciousness ever since he had claimed to recognize Minho, then promptly vomited and passed out. Of course, that left Minho to tackle the issue of taking care of him for the time being since he couldn’t expect the injured Felix to do it. Fortunately, it appeared that the brunette was less high-maintenance when unconscious, which meant that Minho could get away with barely keeping an eye on him. 

Unfortunately, that meant that during the night, he had to be the one to watch the younger struggle with vivid recollections of buried demons in his sleep. And this time, with the fear that Jisung could truly recall what Minho had wanted to keep safely six feet under. Of course, Jisung wasn't dead and although he himself was, six feet under was something that could only occur in a dream. 

Minho's eyes drift down to his hands and he flexes his fingers slowly with a sigh, kicking a leg against the bedside. Six feet under wouldn't be a possibility any more whether he wanted it or not. His brow furrows. The sense of urgency thrumming beneath his skin since the fire had not lessened although they were currently in a safe and decidedly not-burning area. If anything, the need to take action felt stronger than ever to the point where Minho considered it alarming. 

His fingers curl into fists and he glances back at Jisung, curled up on the bed with three quarters of the comforter pulled over his skinny frame. In spite of his obvious covering, he still shivered as though there was an oppressive draft in the air. Minho sighs and stands, shuffling to the closet to rummage around for a spare blanket. When he finds nothing, he moves over to the bedroom door, footsteps muffled by the carpeting. Slipping out, he locates a larger closet and procures another comforter in its place with other spares. 

Dragging it back to the bedroom, he unfolds it over Jisung's frame, covering him and the comforter that he was already hogging. If Minho cared about comfortable temperatures then he may have griped about it, but fortunately for Jisung, he didn't. 

As the second comforter buries Jisung, the brunette relaxes slightly and mumbles something incoherent. In the darkness, a slight smile creeps onto Minho's lips as he settles his hand in Jisung's hair and ruffles it messily. "You're such a brat," he whispers. Jisung was actually quite likeable when he was sleeping, Minho concludes. With his soft features and slightly pouting lips, very little had changed. The fact that he wasn't talking was a bonus. Minho's gaze hardens around the edges. "Forgetting me until now, and then remembering me at the most inconvenient time, eh? I see how it is."

He lifts his hand from Jisung's hair and traces his features with his eyes. Jisung had been right, he did have rather pretty features, all set in his face in an endearingly unbalanced manner. A chipmunk, Minho's mind supplies unhelpfully. And when Jisung's nose wrinkles, as though the man were able to hear Minho's thoughts and was displeased, Minho chuckles softly to himself.

"Min...ho…"

All good humour vanishes from Minho's demeanour at the utterance of his name. He eyes Jisung carefully, his body tense and alert although he made no move to do anything just yet. Jisung groans in his sleep and tosses, throwing part of the comforter off of his frame. His forehead creases. "Minho…"

All this time Jisung had never directly mentioned his name in his dreams, only ever crying out for help or to be left alone. The development perturbed Minho, but he finds himself frozen to the spot, waiting out the troubled dream that Jisung appeared to be having. 

"Minho…'m scared...please...out…"

Minho's face pales beyond its normal deathly shade. "You...brat," he whispers, understanding dawning on him. "You poor child.." That explained why the sight of Minho's bare body had jogged Jisung's memories. Jisung had known all along. He hadn't run as Minho had demanded all those years back. He had stayed. 

"Get out of there!" Jisung whimpers, his voice fully coherent. "Please! No—stop! N—"

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Jisung snaps awake, eyes wide open and atypically vacant, haunted. Minho just stares at him, stunned. Jisung knew everything all along. Jisung had witnessed everything. Jisung knew what they had done to him. 

A whimper escapes the younger's lips as he shakily pushes himself to sit upright and Minho, almost instinctively, reaches out to take Jisung's head in his hands, brushing away the rivulets that drew lines over his face with the pads of his thumbs. Minho meets Jisung's frightened eyes, mirroring a pair that had burnt itself into his memories many years ago when they were fleeing for their own lives and those of each other. It had been a near complete failure, but Jisung was here. Jisung was here, and very much alive. The one sole existence that proved to Minho that he had succeeded was this man.

Although the fact had been known to Minho for weeks by now, it only began to sink in at that moment, with a terrified Jisung staring blankly at him as though unsure if he was reality or another figment of nightmarish imagination. Minho couldn't confirm either for himself with confidence, but there was one thing he was certain of. "I'm here, Jisung. I'm here now. It's okay. You're safe. You're okay." He wraps an arm around the brunette's slim shoulders and another around his head, pulling him close to his chest where they both knew nothing remained. He holds him close until he could almost feel the warmth from Jisung's body. Almost.

"Min...ho…"

"Shhh…" Minho hushes him, resting his chin atop Jisung's head and staring distantly past him and at the wall of the bedroom. His instinct to care despite his better thought was becoming inconvenient, but he couldn't ignore the vulnerable face that was presented to him, albeit involuntarily. If he just left Jisung in that state, it would be like kicking a puppy. 

He feels Jisung's hand bunching into a fist and taking a part of his shirt with it, but he graciously chooses to ignore it. The younger man seems oddly comfortable in his embrace despite Minho having never touched him this intimately prior, but Minho really doesn't want to add any more concerns to his ever-growing list of food for thought so he ignores it. He only keeps his arms around Jisung until he feels the brunette's weight slump against him. When Minho glances down, he finds the brunette fast asleep once again.

Breathing out a resigned sigh, Minho shifts to detach Jisung from himself, only to discover that Jisung's fingers are still firmly latched to his shirt. Changbin's shirt actually, a black graphic tee that Minho would likely never wear if given a choice. Which meant that Minho couldn't damage it. He frowns and reaches to pry Jisung's fingers off. Adamantly, the brunette only clings tighter. 

Lips pursed, Minho lays down, Jisung so close that he may as well be curled up against him. Reaching out, Minho pulls the comforter over them both and closes his eyes. Jisung had an inconveniently iron grip when he wanted to, so Minho didn't see the use of wasting his time attempting to dislodge the brunette's fingers. He closes his eyes. Sleep fled from him, but in this position he had little else to do save chase after it. The corner of his lips quirk up slightly. "You brat," he murmurs softly. 

The meagre remains of the night passes without many more incidents. Whenever Jisung seemed on the verge of another nightmare, he would naturally curl closer, and Minho didn't have the heart to wake him up. Unfortunately it left Minho's nerves on high alert, buzzing incessantly and refusing to let him have a moment's rest. Their proximity unsettled Minho, sending an odd undulating sensation over his skin that felt vaguely familiar. Minho's eyes widen. 

He felt warm. 

The thought plagues him to the core until the infantile morning light crawls past the dense clouds and incessant rain, over the walls and seeping through the windows, filtering through the sheer curtains to dimly bathe the bedroom. Warmth; even while racing to escape an inferno, Minho felt no semblance of heat, much less warmth. He wasn't a living body; no heart beat in his chest, no lungs gave him breath, no blood ran through his veins. Heat and cold were two concepts that had left his mind long ago. But now, this unfamiliar feeling was creeping over him.

Before Minho has any chance to ruminate on his sudden dilemma, Jisung suddenly jerks away from him. He frowns slightly, gaze rising to meet those of the younger man's as Jisung sits stock upright, clutching the comforter to himself and staring wide-eyed at him. “What the hell—”

Minho’s features fall into a lazy smirk. “He speaks! O, speak again, bright angel,” he drawls. Jisung eyes him up for a few moments before tumbling off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom without so much as another word. Minho frowns and sits upright, leaning against the headboard of the bed. "Or not."

For minutes, all that Minho hears is the running of the faucet and the soft, rapid patter of footsteps outside from whoever had woken up at such an early hour. An eerie kind of calm descends over the household in the weak hours of light. Minho rises to his feet and takes his fingers through his hair, moving to the doorway of the bedroom and leaning against it, eyeing Felix's haphazardly darting frame as the blonde moves from one corner of the large suite to the other with a troubled air about him. Felix's bandages had come undone in his sleep and fluttered about him as he runs from one area to another, and little care had been taken to look presentable with his lips cracked, eyes sleep-swollen and hair a bird's nest. It would have been endearing, did the blonde not look like he was on the verge of panicking. 

"Felix," Minho calls softly from the bedroom door. The blonde jumps and whips around from the kitchen to face him. 

"Oh— Minho hyung...I didn't see you there." Felix shifts his weight from one leg to the other, wringing his wrists nervously. "How's Sungie, is he okay?"

"He seems fine to me," Minho responds, stepping out of the room and approaching the kitchen, arms reaching out for Felix. "You on the other hand don't look like you're doing too well." He frowns. "Let's change your bandages, cutie. You can tell me what's on your mind." When the nickname causes Felix to stiffen, Minho gently takes his wrist, mindful of the burnt areas, and tugs him to the living room, switching on the lights before dimming them down when the blonde flinches at the sudden glare. Minho tames Felix's hair down with a hand and meets his eyes. "I'll get the first aid, you sit pretty here, all right?"

Minho rummages about in the cabinets until he locates the medical kit and returns to Felix, who shifts uncomfortably on the couch cushion. Minho frowns. "...your stuffed animals," he recalls. Felix never seemed to sleep without them, but Minho doubted that any of them would be intact after that fire. Perhaps Felix hadn't slept well either.

"I can always get new ones," Felix mumbles, cracking his knuckles and wincing as it causes his skin to split. Minho grabs the salves from the kit and searches for the correct one. "You're really weird, Minho hyung, worrying about plushies." Felix giggles slightly but Minho pinpoints the insincerity. His frown only deepens.

"Not worrying about the plushies, cutie, worrying about you. Were you able to sleep all right?" He brushes Felix's fringe out of his eyes. 

For a few moments, Felix doesn't respond. Finally, as Minho carefully removes the old bandages, he speaks. "Hyung, have you seen Jeongin anywhere this morning?"

Minho's hands move carefully as he proceeds to put ointment on the burns and then imitate Chan's loose bandaging to bind them in a way that wouldn't hurt the blonde. The mention of Jeongin already set off a thread of unease in Minho, but he carries on. "Jeongin? No, I haven't. I thought he was sleeping with you..?"

"That's what I thought too," Felix murmurs, the light pouring through the windows hitting his face, illuminating part of his forehead and his left eye in a distorted rectangle of cool orange. "I woke up, and he was gone. The bed wasn't warm either—he was gone for a while. I came out here to look around and the door was unlocked… he's gone, hyung, I don't know where he is—"

Despite the disturbance that settles in Minho's chest, he keeps himself calm. Calm was the last thing that ran through his mind, but if he panicked, then Felix would panic and everyone else would be roused and would panic. Panicking just didn't seem to be a viable option at the moment. He breathes out slowly and weighs his theories. Jeongin may have been kidnapped, but the likelihood that someone had taken him without harming them was rather low, especially since the previous arson. So that meant that Jeongin either wanted to play an unhumourous game of hide-and-seek, or he had left. Of his own volition. 

The thought leaves a bitter taste in Minho's mouth.

"So he l—"

"Left?!"

Both Felix and Minho whip around to face Jisung, the brunette's hands pressed against the doorposts of the bedroom, eyes wide. "Jeongin _left_? As in he walked out on us?!"

"Quiet down, you'll wake up the entire building!" Minho scolds sharply, rising to his feet. "There's no saying whether he actually did walk out on us or not, but he's currently not here." Minho frowns and shuts the medical kit, lobbing it at Jisung. "Go put this in the open cabinet in the kitchen and for heaven's sake, shut up!" He frowns, feeling oddly irritable. 

"Did I hear something about Jeongin..?" 

Minho groans as Woojin emerges from another bedroom, a half-asleep Kkami cradled in his arms and a concerned light in his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest. "The lack thereof," he replies candidly. "It appears that he isn't here."

" _It appears that he isn't here!_ " Jisung mimics, his voice rising again. "After last night the worst possible thing he could do is wander off! Is he stupid?!" 

"Is who stupid?" The heel of Minho's hand meets his forehead as Chan's head pops out of yet another bedroom, his face swollen by sleep and eyes drooping. Chan rubs his eyes. "You all woke Seungmin up—he wants to know what's going on."

" _What's going on_ ," Jisung stresses, "Is that Jeongin ran off _by himself_ , which is _literally_ the stupidest possible thing he could do right now, and that's coming from me!"

Changbin peers out of the bedroom from where Woojin had emerged and blinks owlishly. "So you _do_ admit that you're stupid?"

"That's not the point!' Jisung snaps. "What if he's in danger?" His eyes shift over to Felix who hadn't spoken a word since everyone had awoken, and currently looked rather pale. He scowls. "This isn't the time to be joking around damn it!"

Chan's lips purse into a line and he swallows back a yawn before exchanging a look with Woojin, who promptly strides over to the cushioned chairs to deposit Kkami onto one. He claps his hands together and glances back at them with an easy smile. "Let's all get washed up and Chan will make us something to eat." 

Jisung looks at Changbin and then Minho helplessly. "We're seriously just going to sit and eat breakfast when we have no idea where Jeongin or Hyunjin are? You can't be serious—"

"I am very serious right now, Jisung," Woojin interjects pleasantly, turning to fix him with an intimidatingly placid stare. "And if you're going to doubt me, then hold it off until we're all at the table."

"I nominate the living room," Chan interjects, raising a finger. "Seungmin can't sit on hard surfaces right now." He pauses. "Really, he shouldn't even be moving, but…" 

"Living room it is," Woojin settles with a smile, ruffling Kkami's ears. The pup lets out a sleepy bark. "Now let's not waste any time, all of you. We have a lot of things to discuss, and you all need to get some energy back in you after last night."

Without much argument, they all filter out of the area one by one, eventually leaving only Felix, Minho and Jisung once again. Minho looks from one to the other before taking Felix's hand and tugging him gently to his feet. "You should get ready for the day too, cutie," he insists. "We face the world in style, so go fix up that look and we're halfway there."

Felix cracks a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and nods slowly. "Yeah...I'll go do that," he mumbles, disappearing into the bedroom again. 

Minho breathes out a tired sigh, eyeing the door as it shuts behind the blonde's back. He turns around to face Jisung and crosses his arms over his chest. The brunette meets his eyes defiantly, but no words are exchanged between them. Jisung was acting strangely, in that he was acting far too...normal. As though everything that had transpired between them during the night had completely slipped from his memory. But there was one thing that gave the younger away. 

Jisung's heart was something he wore on his sleeve. It was easy to see his intentions, even if it wasn't necessarily easy to know whether he told the truth or not. And after spending days under the same roof, Minho liked to think he knew at least a little bit about this Jisung. And he could see that the irritability of the brunette was, to an extent, somewhat forced. Beforehand, Minho could sense the dislike that had gradually evolved into tolerance and then some semblance of friendship, but now there was an unstable barrier that Jisung seemed to erect between them, and regardless of how Minho approached it, he could not determine why it was there.

He takes a step towards Jisung, only for the brunette to falter back. Frowning, Minho approaches the younger again, but for each step forward he takes, Jisung only skitters back two, and Minho can't help the pang of hurt that ricochets through his body. He frowns. "Why are you trying to pretend nothing happened?" He asks, unable to mask the dismay in his voice. His steps eventually slow to a stop as he finds Jisung trapped between the kitchen counter and himself, the young man staring at him with wide, slightly incited eyes. Noting Jisung's discomfort, he retreats a few steps to set a comfortable distance between them. "...do you really remember me..?"

Jisung's brow furrows. He shakes his head. "Look, Minho, just leave me alone for a bit." He sighs harshly. "I don't want to have to talk to you right now." Slipping away, Jisung treads past him and shuts himself in the bedroom. The click of the lock being turned echoes through the empty space and Minho bites his lip, cracking his knuckles absently. 

"Remember you? What did you mean by that?" 

Minho glances up to find Chan strolling into the kitchen, looking rather tired but certainly much better than he had been last night, all things considered. Minho was grateful to see the man back to his old self, especially considering what kinds of stress he had been put through for the past few days. At the moment, he was dressed in Changbin's spare clothes as most of them were and although weariness was written over his face and their current situation was honestly quite bleak, his eyes seemed just a little brighter. 

"Were you eavesdropping or did you just happen to leave your room when I asked Jisung that?" Minho poses, dry amusement riddled through his voice. "Because you should know better than to eavesdrop, Chan."

"I should know better than to do a lot of things, Minho," Chan replies easily, moving to the refrigerator and rummaging through its contents. "I just happened to overhear it. Does he really remember?"

Minho allows the silence to permeate between them for a few moments before shaking his head. "I think so...but I can't say for sure." His voice must have sounded troubled, since the blonde turns around with a carton of eggs and an armful of scallions in his grip, and a worried look on his face. 

"You can't say for sure?"

"No. I've seen him dream about the past before, but I've never seen him mention it in any way while he's been awake. Last night he told me he remembered who I was, but he passed out right after. I don't know whether he really remembers everything. But he's been acting strangely so I feel like he remembers at least something "

Minho pauses and wonders just when he had become so comfortable with Chan that he could easily speak with him about his concerns. Any of them, for that matter. It came naturally, and for someone that had been devoid of any human interaction for the past twenty years, that was remarkable. 

"There's a lot on his mind," Chan states, moving to the stove and depositing the ingredients on the counter. "Jisung is the kind of person who likes things done his own way. It's probably why he's such a controversial student in his field." He searches through the cabinets for a pot. "If he's upset or angry, he'll burst and sulk for a while, but if he buries the hatchet, he doesn't dig it up again. I don't think he's mad at you. I think that he's taking some time alone to be able to think."

Chan glances back at the bemused Minho and offers a fleeting smile. "You should know what that's like." He faces the stove once again and sets some water to boil. "Jisung likes solutions more than he likes problems, so he'll probably figure out how he wants to approach the situation soon. Leaving him alone for now is probably for the best."

Minho frowns and leans against the counter. "Chan, this isn't just any problem. This is his past. I'm just surprised that he isn't reacting more violently than he is. It's…"

"It's something that he has to face on his own, right? We don't have the right to barge in," Chan interjects, chopping up some scallions. "We've known him for a while, Minho. Trust me on this one. He might surprise you."

"When does he not," Minho remarks dryly, earning himself a chuckle from Chan. The worry still weighed in his chest, but all things considered, he supposed it could be much worse. Minho closes his eyes and listens to the sound of simmering as Chan tosses in something or another. If there was one thing he could say he missed, it would definitely be being able to eat purposefully. There was no need for him to eat or sleep now, but old habits die hard. 

"Hey, Minho—"

"Hm?" The brunette opens his eyes to find Chan's back turned to him although the blonde was certainly the only one that could have addressed him. 

"Do you remember anything about Lucas?"

Minho tenses slightly at the name, somewhat wary of Chan's responses after witnessing the reaction last time. Although the blonde seemed far more collected now, there was still something that rubbed Minho the wrong way. Not enough that he couldn't trust him with certain troubles but enough to cause a sliver of unease to thread through him. 

"Your little brother..? Yes, of course I do." Minho frowns. He could remember everything about those children. And perhaps that was more of a curse than anything. "He was mature for his age. He refused to cry or be scared of anything.” Minho smiles slightly at the thought. “Before I told him I was going to take him out of that place, he thought I was with them. He told me that I didn’t scare him.” 

The faintest smile curls onto Chan’s lips and he bows his head slightly. “That sounds like him. He was a responsible kid.” The blonde glances back at Minho. “I’m really sorry about losing my temper with you last time. I...lost it. I promised to keep myself in check now, but I just…” 

“Chan, we’ve been over this,” Minho presses. “It was your little brother. It’d make sense for you to lash out at someone you don’t know suddenly talking about him. Especially after so long.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Honestly, I’m surprised that you didn’t actually hit me.” 

“Hit you?” the ladle in Chan’s grip drops onto the stove with a metallic clatter, and Minho’s brow furrows at the bizarre reaction. “I wouldn’t—” he pauses and tentatively retrieves the ladle. “...I’m glad they managed to stop me before I could. I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else any more.” An eyebrow rides up on Minho’s forehead at that, but before he can question it, Chan glances back at him. “I...I know that Black Tiger were the ones that took him from me.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “You knew all along?”

The blonde stirs the pot of soup on the stove and lifts the lid off another pot to check the rice steaming within. “Not about Jisung. I had no idea that Jisung had anything to do with Black Tiger until Woojin said so. I didn’t know he had been kidnapped by anyone. I didn't know about the Yang family involvement either.” Chan retrieves a spoon and dips it into the pot, blowing slightly on the liquid before sipping at it. “I have a personal grudge against Black Tiger,” Chan murmurs, his voice sombre. 

“Personal grudge?” Minho echoes, although it did make sense. After all, if the blonde knew the people who had kidnapped and killed his younger brother, there was no doubt that there would be a burning animosity for them. Something pressed him to urge the blonde to carry on nonetheless.

Chan tosses the spoon into the sink, a clang of metal against metal ricocheting through the kitchen. “That’s right. They were the ones that orphaned my siblings and I. And then they killed my sister and kidnapped my brother." A hard bitterness is laced in the blonde's voice, and if Minho could feel cold, he was certain that goosebumps would be sprouting on his skin about now. His lips part to speak, but Chan continues before he could get a word in edgewise. "I couldn't save either of them. Hannah died right in front of me—they bludgeoned her—they didn't even let her die quickly, Minho, they beat her to death—" Minho swallows thickly and falters back towards the kitchen entrance as Chan's fingers curl around the ladle so tightly, his knuckles blanch. "I couldn't save her. She was bleeding—it was just...everywhere...the blood—"

Suddenly Chan's compulsive weakness to blood made sense in Minho's eyes. And when he sees the blonde's hand shaking, he scuttles forward to remove the ladle from Chan's hand and lower the heat of the stove. Minho meets the blonde's eyes, frowning at the dilated pupils. "There's no blood, Chan, see?" He gesticulates around them vaguely. "Everything is fine. Everyone is okay. There's no blood. It's okay."

Chan nods and grabs the ladle. "Yeah. This is Changbin's house. There's no reason for.."

"No reason," Minho agrees quickly. "I'll go bring the food out." He grabs the pot of soup and without a second thought carries it to the table, setting it down on the wooden surface. Chan follows in his wake with the rice and Minho easily ducks back into the kitchen for bowls. He glances up to see Woojin already there and grabbing the bowls for him. He blinks. "...when did you get in there?"

"I was actually watching you two for a little while outside," the brunette replies pleasantly. "You were so focussed that you just didn't notice." 

Minho grabs the bowls from him with a cocked eyebrow. "So that was definitely eavesdropping then."

"Not actively," Woojin chirps back easily. "It's like being by the ocean and hearing waves. Watching a storm and hearing rain. You get the point." The brunette moves to grab some spoons for them as well. "I have to say that I didn't expect Chan to just tell you all that right away. It took him years to open up to me."

"Dead men tell no tales," Minho responds. He misses the gleam that illuminates Woojin's eyes for the briefest of moments and he turns around to bring the bowls and Woojin the spoon. 

Breakfast is a sombre affair, with Changbin, Felix and Jisung poking at their bowls of soup and rice with little appetite while Woojin feeds pieces of chicken to Kkami and Chan helps Seungmin to eat, insisting that the brunette shouldn't be moving excessively. Minho finds it too quiet, with the absence of Hyunjin and Jeongin. It was as thought fragments of the others were missing along with the two. It seemed unsettling in its incompleteness. 

The gloom seemed to multiply with the dull light of day that weighed down in the living room from the overcast skies outside. Even Minho had to admit that the atmosphere surrounding them seemed heavier. Not a word passes between them, save the occasional murmur between Chan and Seungmin and barks from Kkami whenever the pup wanted more food. 

"...I know how to find Hyunjin."

The mellow words drop like lead and five pairs of eyes snap over to where Woojin sits calmly on a chair, ruffling Kkami's ears as the pup nips at his fingers. He chuckles slightly and pokes Kkami's head in gentle admonishment. 

"What the hell?! Woojin hyung, are you trying to say you knew this all along?!" This time it's Changbin who bursts out, his eyes wide. "Hyung, this is a serious thing, Hyunjin is probably in serious danger right now, and you knew it all along? Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Beside him, Jisung's fingers grip his bowl tightly and he nods in grim agreement.

"Woojin, you're not joking about this, right?" Chan interjects, brow creased with distress. "It's Hyunjin—"

"Which is exactly why I'm saying this now," Woojin cuts in before the blonde can do much as finish his counter. "I had intended to speak sooner, but the time wasn't right after everything that's happened. I want to recover him as soon as we possibly can. If he is being contained anywhere…" the brunette drifts off, his gaze clouding with something akin to concern. "Enough of that. I know how to find Hyunjin, and if he really has been kidnapped by Black Tiger, then we have to move quickly." Woojin's eyes settle on Jisung for meagre moments before snapping away. "He is very healthy. I don't doubt that they'll...make use of him soon."

Chan shudders at the thought, but Seungmin reaches over with some effort to rest a bandaged hand over that of the blonde's. The younger brunette turns to face Woojin, his gaze grave. "Hyung, how do you know how to get to him?"

Woojin smiles at that and ruffles Kkami's fur before parting the hair at the pup's neck and snapping off the metal collar. He brandishes the accessory confidently. "This."

Felix blinks owlishly at the gleaming silvery band. "That," he states, sounding decidedly unconvinced.

"This," Woojin reiterates calmly. "Hyunjin personally engineered this collar for Kkami. It includes a simple tracker, identification, and temperature regulation for comfort and security." Woojin glances down at the band and runs the pad of his thumb over the delicate workings. "Aside from that, it contains a potent receptor to a certain frequency signal unique to Hyunjin. In other words, as long as Hyunjin can recreate a matching signal and plug it into a digital map, he would be able to locate Kkami by matching the frequency to the receptor." Woojin clips the collar back onto the pup and hugs Kkami to his chest. "It was initially meant to be an extra measure in case the tracker failed, but it can be used vice-versa too."

"So in other words…" Minho begins slowly.

Woojin nods. "We can use Kkami's collar to find Hyunjin's location." He taps on a bluish light illuminating a small strip of the collar. "This already shows me that there's a matching frequency. Now all we need to do is find out where it's coming from."

The heel of Changbin's hand meets his forehead and he laughs mirthlessly. "That...Hyunjin really thinks of everything, doesn't he? This was why you weren't worried about him when you found out he was kidnapped?"

"Don't misunderstand, I'm plenty worried," Woojin huffs. "He's clumsy and he doesn't know how to keep himself out of trouble. Not to mention he's hot-headed when he shouldn't be and he hates being restrained in any way more than anything. I'm worried about the trouble he'll cause for Black Tiger and what they'll do to him because of it. Like I said, Black Tiger has never dealt with Hwang Hyunjin before."

"Aren't you...you know, worried about his safety?" Jisung brings up after a few moments of tentative silence.

"That's why we're going to find him and get him out of wherever he is," Woojin states firmly, his gaze hardening. "I trusted that he would somehow give me his signal and he has. That means he's trusting me to get him out. So I will."

Chan stands up and sets the bowls on the coffee table with a frown. "Backtrack a moment, Woojin," he interjects. "We can't just head into this without a plan...and we still have all of us and Jeongin to worry about too." He looks from one face to the other with a frown. "We need to make a plan."

"That's right... Jeongin," Felix murmurs, his gaze distant. 

"Oh for—" Jisung rises to his feet and strides over to the blonde, kneeling down in front of him to peer up into his warm, brown eyes. The brunette scowls and raises his hands before slapping them down on Felix's lap with a resounding thwack and Felix flinches, yelping.

"Ow! What the hell, Sung, what was that for?!"

"Stop moping damn it!" Jisung retorts, glaring up at him. "You're better than that! If Jeongin left because he wanted to then he had his reasons to do it! I don't know if those reasons are good or bad, but who cares! We're going to get Hyunjin out of wherever they're keeping him, and then we're going to get Jeongin back too. So don't act like we've lost anyone!" Felix's eyes widen. Jisung stands and stares down at him, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "We're going to make sure everyone is safe. We're not leaving anyone behind."

Minho's eyes widen and if he had a heart in his chest, he was sure it would be thumping painfully. Jisung doesn't so much as spare him a single glance, but the borrowed words are enough for Minho.

Jisung takes Felix's head in his hands and bumps their foreheads together roughly, eliciting a wince from the blonde. "Let's rescue Hyunjin and find Jeongin, Lixie," he insists, staring firmly at him, the tips of his fingers resting against Felix's cheekbones. 

Felix cracks a slight smile and he nods. "Okay, Sungie. Let's," he decides. 

"Now that that's settled we can make a game plan," Woojin decides, and Kkami barks in agreement. He leans down to plant a kiss on the pup's head, and it doesn't take much to see that the man truly misses Hyunjin despite his easygoing attitude about the entire situation.

"But before we do anything," Chan interjects, "Jisung, Felix, you guys need to eat your breakfast or you aren't setting a foot outside the condo," he states. 

Jisung pouts. "Hey, no fair! Changbin wasn't eating either, why're you only picking on us?"

"Way ahead of you, Sung," Changbin calls, raising his empty bowl, and Jisung pokes his tongue out at him with a huff. 

"Fine then, mum, we'll eat," he grudgingly concedes. Felix just chuckles ruefully and shrugs his shoulders, reaching for his abandoned bowl of food on the coffee table.

Minho looks from one to the other as their briefly paused breakfast carries on. There was something different about it this time, however. A new fire gleamed in their eyes, and although the hope they had was but a mere shred, they clung to it like the strongest cord. It held a certain power of reassurance that maybe, just maybe things would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will work out~ or will they?  
> Sometimes Jisungie is so difficult, he does his own thing whenever I have something planned for him >.>  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read and I hope you enjoyed~  
> Until next time <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers  
> I'm really sorry for the delay on this chapter - I'm sure we're all going through a bit of a rough time right now after October  
> I will always support Woojin, even if he is no longer an active member of Stray Kids. And Stray Kids will always be nine to me, even if Woojin is no longer promoting with them.  
> Thank you all for your patience, and I hope that you're all beginning to heal, even if it has been a hard past month for the kpop fandom.  
> Thank you for letting me rant here, and without further ado, let's get into it

In the privacy of his own room, Jeongin stares out of the grand bay window from the confines of his bed. Wrapped in fresh clothes and settled in the warm room, he felt anything but comfortable as his mind ran miles upon miles on thoughts of the darkness that flowed beneath the luxury and grandeur of his lifestyle. He grips the comforter to his chest and lets his head fall back, bumping his cranium against the upholstered headboard. 

He felt ill, dizzy and nauseous. His chest ached too, spikes of pain causing him to lose his breath every so often. Regardless of what the doctors had intended to do to him during his surgery, he probably did need the extraction. And he hadn't had the opportunity to receive any anticoagulants from Chan either. There was no chance that he would ask his parents or any of the attendants to pick up any medication either. He didn't trust anyone in this household.

Swallowing back his worries, he closes his eyes and waits for morning to come. Then he could at least begin his search. He had enough knowledge to be aware that his parents were definitely involved with the underworld in some way or another, but he didn't have enough physical evidence. Without evidence, he was as weak as a newborn kitten in the face of the dreadful situation.

The stale rain still clung to his frame, eliciting a shiver down his spine, but he didn't have the energy to drag himself into his bathroom to wash up. Part of him hangs heavily with the guilt of just abandoning the others, but it was for the better. Resting a hand on his chest, he feels his heart beat against his hand. Microchipped like some kind of pet...the thought made him sick to his stomach. To think he had blindly trusted without question.

Here, in the privacy of his suddenly too-large room, Jeongin wishes that he had company. The cramped dorm room he shared with Seungmin was more welcoming than this place. But no, he couldn't return to them, or at least not now. He couldn't endanger then like that, although knowing them, they would probably dive headfirst into the jaws of danger anyway. The least he could do was delay it for as long as he could. Curling up beneath the soft comforter, Jeongin reaches for the bedside lamp and shuts it off, blanketing himself and his surroundings in thick darkness. 

Jeongin's sleep is restless and filled with fierce red flames that bite at him, threatening to drag him into the inferno where his friends and Felix are already caught, each struggling to escape as they're eaten alive. Jeongin can only flee in horrified cowardice, his legs tripping over wet grass and bloody roots in his attempt to escape a force of nature that was far faster than him. His lungs stain with black whorls of smoke and his heart rams against his chest and his eyes snap open as he wakes up in a cold sweat, fear crawling over his skin. 

A shaky smile curls onto his lips as he takes in his surroundings in the grey morning light, with rain misting over the windows and pattering on the glass in a comforting rhythm. The air within his room was still, the atmosphere quieter than an abandoned library. Not so much as the dust disrupted the tranquility. Everything was fine. He was fine, and so were his friends. Seungmin and Felix had been caught in the burning home, but they would be fine. 

Despite his own reassurances to himself, Jeongin curls in on himself, knees pulled to his chest, and lets out anxious, fearful tears. They run hot over his ghastly pale cheeks as he cowers beneath the veil of his comforter. He was scared. As loath as he was to show weakness, he was frightened, and there was no one for him to confide in. He had left behind Felix, he had left his friends, and he couldn't so much as look his parents in the eye. More than anything, he wanted someone to talk to, to pour out all the insecurity and apprehension locked up in his chest, but there was no one. 

By the time he feels too tired to shed any more tears, he's left feeling hollow. He'd always been aware of his privileges, born into the upper class and having everything he could possibly want at the lift of a finger, but he couldn't care less. It meant nothing if there was no one he could share the joys with, and it certainly wouldn't be able to buy him back his health or the wasted years of his life. He pushes himself off of the bed and stumbles over the carpet, feet dragging against the soft curls. 

As water washes the stale sweat off his frame in the shower, he just stands beneath the head and allows the warm droplets to batter at his frame for a little while. Today he would throw himself into figuring out all the little dark secrets that he hadn't been aware of before. He had always been able to snoop around under his parents noses with ease ever since he was young and hiding beneath conference tables while his father had hosted business meetings. Perhaps he could put that to use. 

The crying, as pitiful as it had been, had done him good, in his opinion. His head feels cold and calm, and he knows what he needs to do to help the others. But first he needed to grab a bite or Chan would never let him hear the end of it. A slight smile curls onto Jeongin's lips at the thought of the blonde scolding him for not taking care of his health. The thought made him feel less lonely already.

Pushing back the frosted glass shower door, he steps out onto the marbled floor and dries himself off, throwing on a fuzzy housecoat. He hurries out and tosses back his immunosuppressants without water before throwing on a new set of loose clothes. He slips on his shoes before pushing open the doors of his bedroom and striding into the broad corridor. It hadn't been very long since he had last visited home, but now things felt very different. 

Running to the balustrade, he loops his fingers around the rich, wooden workings and stares down over the expanse of the front hall, illuminated by the chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling and brightened by the natural light that flowed in through grand windows, dancing gaily over the cream-coloured walls. All the glamour felt too ostentatious, as though trying just a little too hard to mask the rotting secrets beneath. Jeongin's eyes narrow. 

And then he runs down the stairs to steal food from the kitchens because surely no one would miss an apple or a bagel. Inconspicuously, he pads in, smiling politely at the housekeepers and grabbing himself a green apple, sinking his teeth into it, and padding back out. It wasn't too unusual a sight for him to be traipsing about unannounced, so fortunately they probably wouldn't question it. 

Jeongin, however, did not expect to find his mother wandering through the corridor of the ground floor surrounded by windows and bathed in the grey light of a dreary day, so when he does happen to catch sight of her with an apple in his mouth like a roast pig on the centre of a banquet table, to say the least, it was rather awkward. His face reddens and he bites through the fruit, chewing loudly and burning with embarrassment. 

She, clad in an elegant, white dress that fell just above her knees with her brown hair waving about her shoulders and framing her delicately pronounced cheekbones, lifts a hand to her mouth, large eyes crinkled in warm, surprised amusement. "Oh my, I didn't expect my baby boy to be here," she hums, hurrying forward as quickly as her ankle boots would allow and wrapping her arms around him. "I haven't even had the chance to talk to you in so long, Jeonginnie, I missed you!" Even with heels, she stands a full head shorter than him.

Perhaps it was that comforting feeling of a mother's embrace that causes Jeongin to melt into her arms as he returns the hug. She seemed completely clueless, and the thought causes a shiver to run down Jeongin's spine despite himself. If she was unaware of what his father was doing… Jeongin's arms around her slender shoulders tighten slightly, recalling Minho's words. He had praised her, calling her a good lady. If any harm came to her... Jeongin buries his face in her shoulder. "I missed you too, mum.."

She coos and ruffles his hair. "What are you doing here, hm? Aren't you supposed to be at your classes?" She prods at his head with a manicured finger and giggles slightly. "Don't tell me you've started skipping. If your father hears about this he might insist you switch to business," she scolds. "Study hard, okay? Mum can't always be babying you forever."

"Mum," Jeongin whines, "I just wanted to come home for a bit! I promise I'm studying hard." He shifts back to take her in and offers her a sweet smile, lips parting to reveal his teeth. "Why, can't I miss the prettiest woman I know sometimes?"

"Why, you little silver-tongued brat," she huffs, reaching up to smack his shoulder. "You don't even like women."

Jeongin feels the blood rush to his cheeks and he sputters, gesticulating frantically. "Hey, just because I don't like them like that doesn't mean I can't think they're pretty! Just take the compliment, mum, don't go fishing!" He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts slightly. It breaks into another grin when she reaches up to ruffle his hair and peck his cheek. 

"You get flustered so easily, Jeonginnie," she teases. "It's good to see you again. Mum has to go attend a meeting now, but I'll arrange for us to have afternoon tea in the gazebo if the weather isn't awful, all right? If you want to see your father, he should be in his office right now, but if not just relax and take it easy, okay?" She smiles. "Mum knows you're tired, don't even try to hide it." 

"I'm an adult, mum, I know how to take care of myself," he chirps before pausing. "I will...you be careful too, okay? Stay safe."

"Oh, sweetie, I may be aging, but I'm not out of my prime yet," she giggles, waving him off. "Sometimes you worry too much, you really do. Maybe that boy of yours is rubbing off on you with how much he worries about you." She blows a kiss to his cheek and steps away. "I should be off now, though. See you soon, Jeonginnie."

The mention of Felix drives a nail a little too hard on the head, and as she patters off, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor cold and resonant in the empty corridor, a forlorn feeling encroaches on Jeongin's chest, leaving him rather empty despite having just exchanged comfortingly familiar words with his mother. That was another thing; by being away from his friends and Felix, he could protect their location, and by being here, he had a chance at keeping an eye on his mother, should anything happen to her. He crunches into his green apple again.

Turning his back to her, he continues down the hallway, eyeing the dewdrops that trace their way down the windows, coalescing in their descent. Although the housekeepers bustled around, the place somehow didn't seem so lively any more. The comfort that Jeongin had found in the arms of his mother was quickly washed away in her absence, leaving a sense of restless discomfiture wafting about the humid air. At least the rain didn't seem so bad at this time, a mere misting in the air.

As he walks aimlessly, his feet lead him to the cedar doors of his father's office. He stands stoically before them, lips pursed into a taut line, wondering how he had even ended up in such a place to begin with. He reaches up to rest a hand on the door. Sure, he wasn't the closest to his father, but he had always been taken care of. He had been sheltered and all that he could have possibly wanted was provided for by this man. But it had been in exchange for his health and the safety of himself and his friends. They had nearly died because of the same man. 

An ugly coil of bitterness crawls into Jeongin's chest and boils there, seething at the brim and threatening to burst. He falters back and retreats, running away from the office, the stiff sound of his footsteps echoing through the quiet corridor. No, he couldn't face him. Not without losing his composure, blowing his own cover and likely falling into grave trouble. He rests a hand on his thumping heart and shudders, his eyes widening. That man held his life in his hands. That man could easily kill him.

* * *

"You'll stay here."

"No, I won't! I'm coming with you!"

"Don't be unreasonable! You need to stay back."

"While all of you are out there risking your skin? Who do you take me for?"

Chan closes his eyes and breathes out a long sigh. "Seungmin, you can barely move as it is. I should be sending you to the hospital, but I know you don't want to go there. Please just stay back." He reaches down to lay a hand over the brunette's bandaged one. "Baby, please...if we're going to go there, we'll need to be able to move fast."

"Are you saying I'll be holding you all back?" Seungmin snaps, his gaze glinting with frustration. 

"I didn't say that, Minnie—"

"I know it's true, Chan! I know that I'll just be a burden if I go! You don't have to pretend that's not how it is!" Seungmin winces and the searing pain that rockets through his body. "I...just want to be useful, hyung," he mutters weakly. 

The blonde sighs and cradles Seungmin's hands gently in his grip. "I know you do, Minnie," he murmurs. "I know you do." He tentatively meets the brunette's large eye, trying to avoid looking directly at the ghastly burns on his face. He averts his gaze after a and frowns. "But there really isn't much you can do in this state." Chan squeezes Seungmin's hands gently, mindful of his wounds. "Rest and heal up quickly," he states firmly. "We'll be fine."

The brunette spares him a concerned glance and he offers a smile in turn. "Seungminnie, I'll be fine."

"Hyung...I'm not worried about your safety," Seungmin huffs softly. "I'm worried about you." He reaches up with a certain degree of effort to gently rest his bandaged fingers on Chan's upper arm. "I don't know. Lately you've been…"

A frown curves onto Chan's lips as he reaches to touch the bandaged hand. "Minnie, I'll be okay." His fingers curl over Seungmin's hand. "It's not how it used to be. I'll be okay. Don't worry about me."

"It's not _that_ I'm worried about," Seungmin murmurs grimly, his features drawn and slightly grimaced. 

"The others will be there," Chan insists. "If you can't trust me, then at least trust them."

The adamance glinting in Seungmin's eyes wavers and he breathes out a sigh of resignation. "I'll stay. You be careful, hyung." He grips Chan's arm. "Promise me you'll keep your head on your shoulders. Promise me that you'll think first and act without regrets."

A small silence follows his pleads and in those tentative moments, Chan leans closer to him, gently kissing his cracked, half-burnt lips. The blonde rests his forehead against Seungmin's, his lips curled into a delicate frown. "I dedicated my life to saving the lives of others, Seungmin," he states firmly, eyes sealed. "That's who I am."

Seungmin searches the man's face in a doleful silence, before breathing out a tired sigh and letting his eyes slide shut. "I'm not going to make you promise anything ridiculous like not raising your hands against anyone else, but hyung…"

"Hm?"

Seungmin's eyes open and he leans forward to peck the blonde's cheek. "Don't do anything _too_ illegal...I'm supposed to be on the side of the law, here." The slightest smirk creeps over his lips. 

Chan huffs softly, poking Seungmin's temple gently with his forefinger. "You're supposed to be critically injured, Minnie, won't you act the part a little more?"

Seungmin laughs softly, shifting himself with a great deal of difficulty to rest comfortably in the blonde's arms. It's uncomfortably hot with their shared warmth on the bed and certainly not doing wonders for the grievous burns scoring his body, but he refuses to move. "Who, me? Being around hyung is my secret to quick recovery."

"I'll take you to the hospital soon," Chan promises. "You need to be checked by a professional." When Seungmin tenses at his words, he squeezes the brunette's hands reassuringly. "There are people there that we can trust." He pecks the top of Seungmin's head and holds him close. 

"I really hope you're right…" Seungmin murmurs. 

The sparse moments that they had to enjoy each other's company in peace were far and few in between, both often being too consumed by studies. Although the situation was anything but ideal, Seungmin allowed himself the small selfishness of keeping the blonde to himself for a little while. 

As expected, however, peace was short-lived. As sharp knocks rattled from the door, Seungmin peers up from Chan's arms, to find Jisung padding tentatively into the room. The chipmunk-cheeked boy casts one glance at them before breathing out a puff of mock-resignation. "I didn't come in here to be a third wheel."

"Well you can deal with it, or you can leave," Seungmin retorts. 

Chan squeezes him slightly in admonishment and glances back up at Jisung with a lax smile. "What did you come in here for then, Sung?" 

Jisung looks from one to the other morosely before shutting the door and leaning his back flat against it. "It's...about Minho," he mumbles after a few tentative moments of pregnant silence. 

"Who'd have thought," Seungmin drawls, shifting to sit slightly more upright. "Your last gut feeling about him was right, so what is it now?" The brunette cocks an eyebrow.

Jisung's gaze shifts from Seungmin to Chan and then back. His lips part, then close again. Then part once more. He frowns. "I don't know."

"You don't know," Seungmin deadpans. 

Chan, who had remained patiently silent for the exchange finally pipes up. "Is this about your memory?" He inquires hesitantly, treading the ground cautiously since Jisung could be quite the capricious person and it was evident that the brunette had been troubled since the morning. Were it not for his conversation with Minho, Chan wouldn't have had a clue as to why. 

Jisung tenses. "How do you know about that?"

"His memory?" Seungmin echoes simultaneously. 

Chan looks from one to the other, realizing that he had likely made a mistake in mentioning it. He frowns and shakes his head. "Minho was telling me earlier," he admits honestly. "How he had his suspicions that you've finally remembered your past. Is it true?"

"The little rat," Jisung mutters under his breath. 

The blonde shakes his head. "No, he was worried. Otherwise he probably wouldn't have said anything. He was worried about how your memories would affect you and he didn't know what to do so he asked me for advice. I was the one that told him to let you handle it on your own."

The brunette frowns and sinks down onto the carpet, his back remaining flat against the door. Pulling his knees to his chest, he stares at the curls of fibre that made up the soft carpet with a creased brow. "Worried about me.."

A rough sigh elicits from Seungmin's lips. "You know, Sungie, he really cares about you a lot. It's not exactly _not_ obvious."

Jisung buries his head in his knees silently and for the succeeding moments stays eerily silent. His shoulders tremble slightly and he raises his head after nearly a minute. "I saw him die," he states, his voice blunt and hollow in the large room, ringing obtrusively among them. "I...saw him die twenty years ago."

Seungmin falls silent and Chan just nods, his head hanging. The youngest of the three shifts his way out of Chan's grip with a groan and tentatively sets his decent leg on the floor, testing his weight on it. When he nearly tumbles over, Chan leaps up to support him carefully as he obstinately stumbles his way to Jisung and sinks down beside the brunette. Brushing away involuntary drops of pain from the corners of his eyes, Seungmin then outstretched his arms to wrap them around Jisung. 

Jisung glances up at the brunette. "Min…" His eyes well with tears. "Min, you're injured, go back to bed—" he chokes out. "Please.." he begins to stand with the intention of bringing the younger back to rest.

"Move another inch and I _will_ make you drag me there," Seungmin threatens, his embrace tightening slightly despite the evident discomfort and strain it left on his body. His voice remained taut with pain, but he keeps close to Jisung. "And don't you dare apologize to me again, Lee Jisung."

"'m not— I'm Han Jisung," Jisung suddenly mumbles. 

Seungmin shakes his head before flinching at the movement and then resting it carefully on Jisung's shoulder. "You _were_ Han Jisung. You're not Han Jisung any more. You're Lee Jisung now. You're Felix's brother and my best friend and a third of your hiphop trio with Chan hyung and Changbin hyung. You're an artist and an idiot and a genius. Who Han Jisung was doesn't matter to me because Lee Jisung is the one that I know and love, okay? And don't even think of arguing with me because talking hurts and Chan hyung's gonna complain if he has to staple anything back," he huffs.

Jisung snorts, his glassy gaze shifting to Seungmin. He chuckles and then begins to laugh. Somewhere through, his laughter becomes wracking sobs, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and staining his skin a blotchy reddish colour. He can't speak coherently with the force of his crying and so he snivels into Seungmin's hair. He feels another warmth at his empty side and realizes that Chan's arms have looped tightly around him, and somehow that makes him cry harder.

His memories were overwhelming, but the last thing he wanted to do was spill them out to everyone. Woojin had to concern himself with all of them and Hyunjin as well, who was currently in a perilous position. Chan needed to do the same while keeping an eye on Seungmin and Felix, both who had suffered agonizing injuries. Minho...Jisung couldn't find it in himself to face Minho just yet, nor Changbin, who would probably tell Minho if asked. Felix was struggling with Jeongin's abandonment, and Jisung couldn't possibly weigh his sensitive heart down further. 

It had taken Jisung a while to come to terms with the fact that he wanted to confide in Seungmin again, his closest friend aside from Felix; his friend whom he had nearly lost because of his own stubbornness. He wanted to talk to him again, face to face without the excruciating burden of knowing he had almost killed him. It had taken more than just mere courage to face him again. Seeing Seungmin in itself was like a stab to Jisung's heart. 

"You're so dumb Minnie," he whispers when his sobs fade into softer whimpers. "I nearly got you killed, why would you still treat me like your friend?"

"Stupid," Seungmin mumbles against his shoulder, moving closer to him. "Because I'm dumb, that's why. We're two idiots who match well. Besides, I'm not letting anyone take away my best friend position. So stop weeping about it because I don't regret anything I did."

Chan smiles slightly at the scene and carefully disentangles himself from Seungmin and Jisung. "I'll leave you two to talk," he tells them. "If you need anything then send Jisung out to get me, Minnie." His gaze drifts back to Jisung and he pushes himself to his feet. "I'll bring painkillers later."

Seungmin nods gratefully and moves away from the door so Chan could make a narrow exit. He turns back to Jisung and reaches up to wipe at his tear-streaked, swollen face with his bandaged hand. "Dumbass," he huffs.

"Oh, shut up," Jisung grumbles, but a petite smile creeps over his lips. 

Seungmin chuckles and turns to stare at the bed, his gaze distant. "You said you wanted to talk about Minho."

Jisung nods slowly, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his wrist. "I remember what happened...I remember everything—" he pauses. "Minho loaded me and the other children into the back of a pickup truck that he covered with a blanket to keep us warm...there were seven of us altogether at the time, from infants to five years old." 

He hugs his knees to his chest once again. "He drove us to the forest's edge and then took us all down and had us run. I think he wanted to hide us in that house…" a bitter laugh escapes Jisung's lips. "The house that Lix and I ended up buying. But we were being chased and we weren't too good on our feet. The moving was slow, and eventually _that_ …He shudders. "Black Tiger got to us. Most of us were killed before we even got to the house—Minho ran with us and locked us up in the house but they broke through the windows. He was holding babies, Min, they weren't even two years old…" Jisung retches his eyes widening, and he covers his mouth with a hand, eyes watering.

Seungmin feels his insides go hollow with horror with each word that left Jisung's lips. When Jisung leaps to his feet and runs towards the bathroom, Seungmin can only listen helplessly to the coughs and retches as Jisung is forced to vividly recollect the terrors of his childhood. At that moment, Seungmin silently swears that he'd do everything in his limited power to deliver justice to the evil that had cursed his friends and Chan. 

Jisung returns with red-rimmed eyes and a sickly greenish tinge to his skin, his cheeks slightly hollow and an unsteadiness in his step. He sinks down beside Seungmin and resumes his tale. "He pushed me out of the window and told me to run before they cut him down...I didn't want to run. I hid in the bushes and I saw them stun him—he was fully conscious when they did that to him, Min…" Jisung's face goes from pale to paper-white. "That scream Lix and I heard on our first night in the house—it sounded like how he screamed when they cut him open…"

"Stop— stop," Seungmin forces out, features twisted into a pained grimace. "And all of this was…" he drifts off, his eyes widening. "All of this was orchestrated by Jeongin's father?"

"Mr. Yang," Jisung murmurs, rising to his feet once more, but this time lifting Seungmin up in his lithe arms and carrying him to the bed, minding his burns. "I don't really remember too much about him. He'd mostly be there for checkups with the adults. The children he'd leave to others. But he…" Jisung drifts off. His forehead creases and he frowns. "Nevermind."

Seungmin frowns, but doesn't press the matter. He sighs and rests back against the soft pillows, his grimace easing. "Is that all you wanted to tell me..?" 

"Do you know the debt-collection system?" 

Seungmin frowns. "Debt-collection system?" The words roll off his tongue before his eyes widen in realization and he tenses. 

Jisung settles himself comfortably against the headboard, tucking his knees against his chest once again. "It's pretty common with loan sharks. You borrow something and promise to pay within a certain amount of time. If you can't they'll come and take something of yours or beat you up. That kind of thing."

"What about it?" Seungmin asks, already feeling his heart sink. The fact that Jisung was bringing it up in the first place couldn't mean anything good.

Jisung shrugs. "I'm pretty sure that's what happened with my biological family. I don't know what happened or how they got tangled up with Black Tiger exactly, but they always seemed troubled around me. I could overhear them talking some nights when I couldn't fall asleep. The 'babysitter' that they hired for me, the one that was with me when I was kidnapped, was the debt-collector. My parents couldn't pay what they owed, so they sold me to Black Tiger. My babysitter was the one that 'kidnapped' me." His voice is both cold and hard, his gaze like steel. 

"Jisung—" Seungmin gasps, his eyes widening. 

"I...was really bitter about that," Jisung mutters. "But then I thought what's the point, it's their loss not mine," he jokes, his voice still sharp. "I didn't lose anything. I'm alive and I have parents and a brother and friends that care about me. I'm doing what I want to do. I haven't lost anything." He frowns. "Which is why we're going to get Hyunjin and Jeongin back. I'm not letting Black Tiger try take anything else from me or my friends."

Seungmin's lips curl into a faint smile. "You're really something else, Sungie…"

"Aren't I?" Jisung hums, a lilt to his voice. He turns to look at Seungmin. "So that's why you have to heal up quicky, Min. They're not taking you from me either."

"Well, gee, it's nice to feel like a pawn in your powerplay," Seungmin drawls sarcastically. 

"Oh shut up and heal."

* * *

Chan pauses outside the door, his hand already resting on the wood to push it open. In his grip is a glass of water with the painkillers, but he doesn't enter. Instead, he retreats, setting the glass by the door and backing into Changbin. He starts, jumping slightly and whirls around, relaxing only when he catches sight of the younger. "Oh—hey, Changbin."

"You all right, hyung?" Changbin asks. Chan notes that the man is again decked in his comfortable attire, cuffs in his ears, stud on his eyebrow and rings on his lip. He, thankfully enough, didn't seem worse for the wear, although he seemed rather jumpy—they all did after the fire.

What he had heard behind the closed door, Chan didn't want to share, but the burden of knowledge must have been visible on his features. Although he could feign his expressions well, his eyes tended to be a dead giveaway. "I'm fine. Seungmin's doing better than I thought he would be. The skin isn't being rejected, so the only issue is keeping it clean without irritating it too much—"

"I didn't ask about Minnie," Changbin sighs. "Although it's good to know he's doing okay, I asked if you were doing all right."

Chan closes his eyes momentarily and thinks carefully. It would've been small talk, had this been a regular day, had they all been safe and ignorant of the deadly caprices playing beneath their feet. He felt oddly calm since speaking to Minho earlier in the morning. Even now, after all he had heard from Jisung, there was no crippling nausea or burning anger. His head felt cold. "You know, I'm doing fine," he responds after a few moments. He offers the raven-haired man a smile. "I'm really doing better."

"That's good," Changbin states, relaxing slightly. "I lent Woojin hyung my spare laptop to see if he could track Hyunjin's location. Felix is helping him out right now." A glimmer of worry shines in his eyes. "He looked a lot better after Jisung's pep talk, but I think that he's still hung up on Jeongin...I hope Jeongin's okay."

Chan sighs. "I'd like to think he knows what he's doing, but I don't know what's going through his mind. But to be honest, I want to get him back as soon as possible. If they tried to burn down Lix and Jisung's house while he was in it, it means they don't care if he dies." Chan's eyes narrow slightly. "He's probably in danger."

"Damn it," Changbin sighs harshly. "This is just going from bad to worse, huh?"

Chan shakes his head. "It doesn't matter how bad it gets. As long as they're alive and we're alive, we'll make a way." His eyes shine firmly and he glances back at Changbin. "You're with me, right?"

"There's not much choice, is there?" Changbin remarks wryly. "I would've never thought that being friends with you all would mean signing up for this kind of madness, but here we are."

An enigmatic gleam shines in Chan's eyes, but as soon as it comes, it disappears once again. "Well, would you have it any other way?"

Changbin laughs. "To be honest, it'd be nice if we weren't messing with the underworld and dealing with a situation that could literally get us killed, but I have to say that I wouldn't choose any other people to be stuck with."

Before the blonde has the chance to respond, Felix bursts out of one of the bedrooms, his eyes wide and shining with determination. Behind him, Woojin emerges from the room, laptop in his arms and a collected smile of satisfaction on his lips. A collarless Kkami bounces around his feet, yipping excitably. Almost in anticipation, Chan turns to face them tilting his head in interest. 

Felix jerks a thumb back at Woojin, a triumphant glint in his gaze. "We found Hyunjin!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much happened in this chapter, but it'll change in the next few, promise ~  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read and I hope you enjoyed  
> Until next time, and please remember to take care of yourselves <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the new chapter, dear readers, and can I just mention how grateful I am for the 3k+ hits? I'm happy that people have clicked on this story and decided to give it a chance~  
> I really want to thank all of you lovely readers for sticking with me for so long, and I hope that you continue to enjoy this story until it's end <3  
> Anyway, without further ado, lets go.

Jeongin's heart pounds against his chest as he scampers through the office, ducking beneath the light and scuffling around the grand bookshelves, kicking up small clouds of dust in his wake. His heart skips a beat when he hears a stirring, but he whips around to find no human presence in the room with him. His father's office was virtually a sacred space; Jeongin would have never thought that one day he would sneak inside unsupervised to procure the delicate information he so desperately wanted.

Resting a hand on his heavily beating heart, he breathes out a shaky sigh. With every little noise, he jumps, loath to be caught in the act of trespassing. It had taken him more mettle than he had presumed to so much as consider entering the office once his father had left. 

Rummaging through the cabinets and drawers, his fingers shakily enveloping the brass knobs and handles as he tugs open and slams shut when he finds nothing of suspicion within, Jeongin hurries through the massive study. It was all paperwork, too much paperwork, really, but what could be expected of the owner of multiple multi-million won companies? The towering stacks were only scraping the surface of the responsibility. Jeongin couldn't imagine hefting up those burdensome ropes one day. He almost felt bad for the man, were he not entangled with ivylike bitterness for the evils committed against himself and his friends and heaven knew how many other thousands of people.

Jeongin grimaces as the wood screeches when he pulls open another drawer of the cedar desk. This one, to his surprise and unsettlement, contains no papers, nor pen or supply, but only a single, tarnished silver band, tossed haphazardly within the otherwise empty containment. The tips of Jeongin's slim fingers scrape over the rough bottom and he frowns at the imperfection. That was unusual. Everything else in the room was perfectly maintained, all furniture varnished and trimmed, metal ornaments polished until he could see his reflection in them, glass wiped down to a pristine shine. Down to the smallest detail, everything remained immaculate.

He scrapes his fingernails over the wood and finds them hooking onto a slat of wood. With a frown and a curious gleam in his eyes, he pulls the false bottom out of the drawer to reveal a sheet of photographic paper, facedown. After a moment's hesitation, he grabs the corner of the paper and flips it over, only for the colour to drain from his face and his breath to catch in his throat. 

Family pictures weren't by any means uncommon, but Jeongin had never seen this one before. The only immediately recognizable person in the photograph was his father, the man looking more youthful in the image. Jeongin had never seen such a smile on the man's face before as he stood with a woman whom Jeongin had never seen before, but immediately knew was Minho's mother. They shared the same large, catlike eyes and refined features. Even the slim build and average height was hers, coupled with straight, jet black hair that slithered to the small of her back—it didn't take much effort for Jeongin to see who Minho took after on a physical scale. And speaking of Minho, a much younger version of the man stood in the photograph as well, clad primly in a blouse and knee-shorts, a navy ribbon tied loosely at his collar and a beret perched on his crown of black hair. In his arms was a ginger, tabby cat, held close to his chest, and on his youthful, round face was a bright, beaming smile.

Perhaps, more than anything, the location of the photograph shocked Jeongin, for he immediately recognized it, a quaint cabin-esque house in a small clearing within a forest. Two storeys excluding the attic and a small porch, freshly painted in a cream white with honeysuckle climbing up the walls and swallows perched picturesquely on the eaves. Jisung and Felix's home: the place where they had stumbled upon Minho or more precisely, Minho's ghost.

It was all too coincidental, all too perfectly placed for Jeongin to believe that every little detail could have purely been chance. 

Jeongin stares at the photograph with a frown. The man in it was a stranger to him, genuinely radiating a fatherly joy. The innocent child Minho in it seemed a far cry from the man he had come to know, one who seemed so entwined with the worries of adulthood and the maturity that followed bitter experience. The woman...although she was not his own mother, Jeongin couldn't help but think that she was a beautiful lady. The image itself radiated a melancholic nostalgia, a soft reminder of something precious that was lost to the past and buried. The ache in Jeongin's chest burned hollowly with the odd sensation of missing someone whom he had never met.

Jeongin's fingers grow rigid and the photograph slips out of his hands, falling to the polished, rosewood floor with a quiet flutter. Footsteps permeate his senses and he quickly scrambles to slap the photograph back into the drawer and slide the false-bottom over it. Slamming the drawer shut, he runs for the champagne-coloured, crushed velvet curtains that framed a grand window, slipping himself behind the braided golden cord and shielding himself with the heavy fabric. 

The doors of the office-slash-study open with a dull creak and the peculiar clacking of dress shoes over the wooden floor draw closer to him. Jeongin finds himself instinctively holding his breath, his heart pulsating within his chest. Reaching up slowly, he grips his shirt, willing the thunderous beat to calm down. When he hears no more footsteps, he cautiously peers out of the corner of the curtain only to find his father mere feet away from him, standing solemnly at the window and gazing out of it distantly. Something about it reminded Jeongin of Minho, but his mind was more occupied with trying to remain calm than it was with searching for familial similarities at the moment.

An eternity seemed to pass before the man retreats from the window to one of the shelves. Jeongin watches through narrowed eyes as he pulls from the side of the shelf a white coat, eerily similar to a doctor's coat. Jeongin shudders at the sight, goosebumps emerging on his skin at the sight. His father was no doctor—he was a businessman. There was only one plausible reason for him to be in that attire, and Jeongin honestly didn’t want to consider it.

He breathes out a slow breath, only to tense again, sharply, when he glances up to see his father’s narrow eyes that resembled his own so strongly fixed on him. Jeongin swears his heart stutters in his chest, and not in the good way, his face tingling with the lack of blood. He feels the beginnings to fright gathering at the corners of his eyes, but his father turns his head away, lifting the piercing gaze off of his body. Jeongin breathes out a quiet breath of relief.

“Yang Jeongin, I can see you.”

Jeongin gasps, unable to bite back the sound that evokes naturally from his throat at the mellow statement. He flinches and tenses, remaining hidden behind the curtain despite the futility of the action, as though some childish thought had crept into his mind that he wouldn't be seen if he couldn't see the beholder. 

The man approaches him and the cold fingers of fear take grip on his chest, paralyzing him to the spot. He bites his lip as the heavy golden cord is tugged, shifting the curtain away from his skinny frame and exposing him to the dull light of day and the eyes of his father. He flinches. 

"You know, you used to hide behind the curtains like this when you were little," the man, not much taller than him, but still hopelessly intimidating tells him, his voice giving away nothing. Somehow that intimidated Jeongin all the more. "Who would have thought that even though you've grown, you still have those same habits." He steps closer, and Jeongin naturally falters back, until his back meets the cool glass of the grand window. The man seems somewhat confused by his reaction. "I thought you were at university, what are you doing in my office?"

Jeongin swallows and rests his palm flat against the glass. "Mum said you'd be here, but when I came to see you, you'd already left," he lies narrowly. He lowers his eyes to hide the burning shame that reflected in them from his lies. Jeongin prided himself in his honesty, but he took some comfort in the fact that he had been lied to as well.

"And so you stayed here and hid behind the curtain? For what, did you want to surprise me again? Jeongin, you should know by now I don't fall for those childish games. You've grown up now, you should act more like an adult," the man scolds, reaching out to rest a hand on his head. Jeongin winces beneath the touch, his body rendered stiff as a board. 

"Dad, I'll have to play those games a little longer if I'm going to teach children," he mumbles, looking for any avenue out of his current predicament. It was just his lucky break that his father didn't seem to find his presence here strange, owing his behaviour to his childish habits. Or perhaps he was hiding his intention—Jeongin couldn't tell. He had never been able to in the first place. 

The man nods. "That's true." He straightens his coat out as though it wasn't a strange piece that didn't belong on the body of a businessman and peers over at Jeongin once more. "You should be thinking of your inheritance instead of working with children," he states coolly. "There are many things that someone will need to do once I can no longer do them for myself."

"Maybe have another child," Jeongin mumbles, sidling away from the window, more keen on making his exit than maintaining this conversation or even staying to witness just what his father was up to. "I already said I didn't want to, dad...I'm not changing my mind." 

The man's lips quirk up ever so slightly, as though Jeongin had made a clever joke. He chuckles and turns away from Jeongin. "I know. And I suppose I can't change your mind for you." He glances back at the blonde. "As long as you know that what you're doing is the right thing for you to do, I won't try to stop you."

Hypocritical, Jeongin thinks bitterly, but bites his lip to the words that threatened to fall off his tongue. He sighs and rubs his temple tiredly. "What're you doing in the coat, dad?" He asks up front. "Is it a new business endeavour or something?"

"Or something," the man brushes off calmly. Internally, Jeongin wonders just how he could keep his head on his shoulders with the skeletons in the closet.

With a frown, Jeongin shuffles back. "Okay...it'll probably turn out well." He smiles mirthlessly. "You have a real knack for making prosperous business, dad." He pads towards the door. "Sorry for being childish. I just wanted to see you…" he drifts off. "I'm off to have tea with mum later," he informs to divert any semblance of suspicion. 

"That's good then. She's missed you." 

Jeongin shudders inwardly at the casualness of his father's tone, as though the man had not sent someone after him to eliminate him alongside his friends. "Mhm." He strides towards the door, but pauses while opening it when he hears the clatter of footsteps. He peers back out of the corners of his vision and watches as his father disappears around a corner behind one of the shelves. Committing the site to memory, he hurries out of the study, shutting the heavy cedar doors behind him and listening to the resonant clicking of the lock as it falls into place, sealing the office shut.

* * *

"Eh? You found Hyunjin?" Jisung's head pops out from the doorway of the bedroom, his gaze landing on Felix. A grin steals over his lips. "Good on you, Lixie, I knew you could do it!" Felix beams at Jisung, and the brunette's heart relaxes at the brightness in the freckled blonde's eyes. He hurries out of the room and hugs Felix excitably. 

Minho, snapped away from the books and papers that he had gathered from Seungmin after the brunette had grabbed them in his escapade from the burning house, peers out of another bedroom and cocks an eyebrow at the sight. Padding out into the living room, he glances from one to the other. "What's with the extra dose of exuberance?" He drawls, sidling his way to Chan and Changbin's sides.

"They found Hyunjin's location," Changbin informs, his dark eyes glimmering.

Minho glances over at Jisung and Felix once more, the pair mock-tussling about in their eagerness to recover Hyunjin and hopefully Jeongin too. The energy exuding from the pair was contagious, and even Minho felt the beginnings of a restless excitement spilling over him, laden with apprehension, but excitement nonetheless. It was bizarre, but it suited them well, he decides.

"Hey...don't just leave me out of the fun—" his gaze darts back to the bedroom door where Seungmin leans weakly against the jamb, looking on the verge of crumbling onto the cold tiles, but before he can do much as shift his weight to help the brunette, Chan is already at his side, scolding him quietly as he carries him to a cushioned chair to sit. A slight smile creeps onto Minho's lips, strangely comforted by the domestic sight. The blisters on Seungmin's face had reduced, leaving whitened, dead skin over a darker red. It would peel soon, leaving behind scars, but it was evident to Minho that the brunette was taking his injuries with a grain of salt. It amazed Minho that he could even move with the more serious burns patching his body, but he had learned that Seungmin was a very stubborn person, right up there with Jisung. He glances back at the squirrel-cheeked man in amusement.

Woojin picks up Kkami in one arm and holds the laptop in the other, carefully laying it on the coffee table to free both his hands. He sits down on the soft carpet and taps the pulsing light on the screen with the cursor, zooming in on a blue grid blanketing a black backdrop. "Unfortunately we couldn't receive any more detail than this. The signal would weaken otherwise because of the excess data that would need to be processed." He glances up at them. "But this is enough."

Felix breaks away from Jisung's headlock to sit down beside Woojin and pick Kkami out of the man's arms. The dog easily settles in his lap and sits close to his stomach. Felix ruffles Kkami's dark ears, his eyes on the screen. "The grid showed us his coordinates," he states. "And when we plugged it into a map—"

Minho's eyes zone in on the coordinates written on the grid and his eyes narrow. "That's—"

Felix nods. "It's Jeongin's house—it's the Yang main estate." He frowns. "So Hyunjin really is being held captive by Jeongin's father…"

Jisung's eyes shift over to Minho, noting his troubled grimace, and then back to Felix who no longer held that energetic gleam in his gaze. The blonde seemed to wilt under the reality that they were faced with. Jisung didn't blame him. 

"All right, let's get him out of there, then."

Six pairs of eyes turn to eye the curly haired blonde as Chan rolls his wrist calmly, his features collected, but his gaze dark. "Let's get him out of there before they can do anything to him."

Woojin smiles. "Agreed." His eyes settle on Minho. "Does the specific location look familiar?" He asks. "Is it the same, rather."

"Not quite," Minho responds with a thoughtful frown. "Yes, the last time the laboratory was on our property—"

"Laboratory?" Changbin echoes dubiously.

Minho shrugs and spares him a glance. "Close enough. But because it was just on our land, that made it a little easier to escape. If I'm not wrong, this location is actually inside the estate…" 

“Inside?” Chan murmurs. 

“Inside,” Woojin affirms seriously, his voice dropping slightly as he peers back at the blonde from the reflective surface of the laptop screen. “Which means that this isn’t going to be easy.” 

“Not that it was going to be easy in the first place or anything,” Changbin pipes up sarcastically. 

“Definitely not,” Jisung agrees with a solemn nod. The pair share a glance and stifle a laugh. 

Chan frowns. “But that means that we have to get into their home. That’s trespassing. Plus their security is going to be tighter if it's in the estate itself." He looks from one to the other and then down at the screen where the signal blinks brightly at him. "So getting in isn't going to be easy." He rubs his upper arm absently. When he lifts his eyes, Seungmin catches his gaze and the brunette's eyes narrow.

"Is...it too much to see if we can try and contact Jeongin?" Changbin queries, scratching his cheek absently with a fingernail. Felix tenses and rises to his feet, causing the pup in his lap to scamper back to Woojin. The freckled blonde turns on Changbin, eyes blazing. 

"No! No, we're not going to put him or ourselves in any more danger than we're already in!"

"Lixie…" Jisung rushes forward, but Felix only pushes his arms away with a frown. 

"Jeongin would never do anything if it would harm us. He must have known that if he stayed with us, he's endangering us! That's why he went back— so that he could hide us from his father because look what happened to us because of him!" Felix brandishes his bandage-wrapped arms and gestures to Seungmin. "It's not his fault that it happened, but it's definitely because of him that it happened!"

Jisung falters, his eyes widening. "Lix—"

Felix stares at them with a gaze that held them in an iron grip. "He's doing what he can on his own. Hyunjin did what he could and he's still doing what he can on his own. Now we have to stop sitting around and do what we can with the resources we have, right?"

Woojin relaxes and reaches out to wrap his fingers around the blonde's wrist and tug him down onto the carpet once again. "Precisely. We don't know what the current state of Jeongin's health is—for the time being, it's best to keep him out of the matter as much as we can."

"Woojin and Felix are right," Chan readily agrees. "I still need to get my hands on Jeongin's medication. At least he took his immunosuppressants with him. But the problem of getting into the estate still stands."

"About that…" Seungmin breaks in, drawing attention to himself. He straightens himself up slightly on the chair, his gaze flickering with a firm glimmer of impudence. "I believe we're forgetting an important variable in the equation." His gaze lands on Minho. 

"I was hoping you'd forget about me," Minho drawls with a sigh, hands tucked delicately into the pockets of his borrowed pants. When he's only met with six expectant stares, he sighs. "Yes, I know some ways of getting into the estate." He smirks. "I was always the biggest troublemaker in the family, after all."

Changbin shifts his weight from one leg to the other, cocking an eyebrow at him. "So you can get us in there as long as we can get there?"

"I don't know where the new laboratory is, but I know that I can get you inside the estate for sure. From then on in, you're basically trying to hit a fly with a dart in the dead of night." Minho stares at the grid on the screen, the winking blue light seeming to mock him. He closes his eyes, his lashes casting delicate, melancholic shadows over his cheekbones that seemed slightly hollower than normal. "But I wouldn't go during the night. That's when they're most highly operative."

"All the more reason to go, don't you think..?" Changbin muses, his brow creasing.

Minho turns to stare at him, deadpan. "Sure, if you want a higher chance of literally getting killed. We're not dealing with decent people here, we're dealing with people who abandoned their moral compasses for greed." He crosses his arms over his chest, his catlike eyes widening expressively. "I won't let any of you set foot near that hellhole at night when you won't be able to defend yourselves, you hear me?" 

"But...the longer we wait, the more danger Jeongin will be in!" Changbin insists, turning to face Minho defiantly his gaze sharp and upturned. "Hyung, there are risks that we need to take! Jeongin is completely innocent, but out of all of us, he and Hyunjin are at the most risk right now! If we wait to save our own skin, we could lose them! Is it really worth it?"

The colour drains from Felix's face, and from the confines of Woojin's strong arms, Kkami whimpers. Minho's glare fixes itself on Changbin and he takes a belligerent step towards the shorter man. "Are your lives worth throwing away like that?! I'm saying this for your own safety, why won't you understand?" He grabs Changbin's shoulders, and Jisung's eyes widen, a gasp escaping from his throat. Minho, oblivious, grips the raven-haired man's shoulders fervently. "If something happens to all of you—"

"He's your _brother_ , Minho! You're not going to abandon your brother!" Changbin presses, his voice growing harsh and gritty. "We said we were going to get through this, all of us! You're...not going to leave him behind for our sakes, are you..?" His voice drifts off weakly.

"Hey, you two, stop fighting." 

The pair turn to face Chan as the curly-haired blonde approaches them steadily with a heavy weight in his gaze. His olive eyes shift from their faces to Minho's fingers that dug into Changbin's shoulders and for a moment he pauses, caught off guard. Minho's eyes widen and he removes his grip, sliding his hands back into his pockets and turning his head away with a frustrated gleam in his eyes. Chan closes his eyes. "We'll go tonight," he decides firmly. When Minho's head snaps up and his lips part to argue, Chan raises a hand. "I'll cover for everyone. That won't be an issue."

"Chan hyung!" Seungmin struggles to his feet and stands on weak, disfigured legs, gripping the armrest of the chair to hold himself upright, his eyes wide and his lips pursed in the manner that they did when he was deep in thought over a matter. 

The blonde rushes to his side and sits him down once again with an admonishing expression written on his features. "I told you to heal quickly! You won't be doing that if you keep moving around," he scolds. 

Seungmin's gaze falters. "Hyung…"

"Baby, we need to get Hyunjin and Jeongin out of there," the blonde murmurs gently. "And I'll definitely protect them by any means necessary."

Seungmin's jaw tightens and he pushes Chan's hands away as they reach for his, turning his head away from the blonde. "Then don't touch me until you get back," he states sharply. "Until all of you get back." His fingers curl into his palms. "And if your hands are red... I can't do anything more for you."

Chan shakes his head. "Not a chance. I'm a doctor." He reluctantly backs away from Seungmin. "You don't have to worry about me." He glances back. "Seungmin and Felix should stay back to operate the tracker and keep us updated. Changbin, Woojin and Minho will come with me to the estate." He glances back at Felix as the man opens his mouth to differ. "You're both injured and Felix, after Hyunjin, you and Woojin are the best operators we have."

The blonde's eyes drift over to Woojin. "You won't be coming inside with us. We'll need someone to be with the car and be in charge of keeping communication steady. Minho will lead us inside, and then he, Changbin, Jisung and I will find Jeongin and Hyunjin."

"That being the oversimplified version of the deed, I presume?" Woojin remarks, a tinge of amusement riddling his voice. 

"Of course," Chan responds, sharing the same faintly sardonic amusement.

* * *

Jisung fiddles with the pillows that he had arranged on the bed for the umpteenth time as the dim glow of dusk waters down into an inky darkness. On the mattress, Minho eyes him silently, making no move to join him in his subconscious search for mental occupancy nor stop him from his tedious, repetitive, _nervous_ actions. 

Neither of the pair had spoken to each other since the morning, leaving between them a thick wall of silence and an air of awkwardness that was beginning to perturb Minho. He frowns and flexes his fingers on his lap as Jisung fluffs the pillow once more and places it anal-retentively on the mattress. His body felt strange, lighter than it should, although not obtrusively so, and his skin, although naturally pale since his death, seemed unusually glasslike, delicate and translucent.

"Minho.." 

The elder of the two glances up in surprise to find Jisung still fiddling about with the pillow and tucking in a corner of the sheet. There was something inherently disconcerting about Jisung's mien, his tone, his behaviour. Minho didn't attribute the docile behaviour to the stubborn man at all. He raises his chin slightly and stares at Jisung. "You've been terribly quiet up until now. Cat got your tongue, hm?" He leans over on the mattress, one pale hand propping him upright as he reaches forward with a small finger to tap at Jisung's lips teasingly. The younger brunette only meets his gaze and Minho's eyes widen to see the unshed tears of frustration glossing over his round, olive eyes. Minho lowers his hand and frowns. "What's wrong, Jisung?"

The younger swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Why the hell is all of this happening to us?" Jisung mutter roughly, indignance seeping through his tired voice. "What did we do...?" 

Minho's eyes widen and the feeling of something sinking within his empty chest returns to him. His lips purse into a taut line. 

Jisung falls to his knees on the soft carpeting and rests his head on the mattress, pillow abandoned messily beside him. His gaze settles distantly on the beige wall and his hands curl with frustration. "What did Jeongin do to deserve a father like that? Why does he have to suffer? Why did Seungmin have to nearly die? Why did Lix have to get hurt? Why did Hyunjin have to be abducted? Why did my parents have to abandon me? Why did you have to die?"

The elder of the two closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. He rubs his temple and sighs. "I don't know," he mutters. "Life isn't a rose garden, Jisung."

"It is," Jisung retorts sharply. "It takes a long time to develop and some buds die along the way, and when it flourishes it comes with thorns. Sometimes it's beautiful, but there's always going to be someone who cuts all the beauty away for their own gain, isn't there? Life is a rose garden, Minho, it's so damn cruel!"

"You're an artist, I keep forgetting that," Minho remarks wryly, leaning closer to Jisung and resting a cold hand on the brunette's head. He meets the man's eyes and offers him a bitter smile. "If Jeongin didn't have such a father, he may not have had the circumstances that led him to meet all of you. If Seungmin had not gone to save your paintings, you would have lost important pieces of yourself for good. If Felix didn't get injured, Seungmin may have died. If Hyunjin wasn't abducted, he would have been killed instead...if your parents hadn't left you, you would have never met Felix. And if I never died, we would have never seen each other again."

"Does it matter?" Jisung wonders breathlessly, raising his head to meet Minho's eyes. "Does it really matter as long as things could be different? People wouldn't have to die...less people would suffer."

"Don't be so childish!" Minho's gaze hardens and he lowers his hand from Jisung's head. "The world doesn't work like that, Lee Jisung. You could save a few people and more would still die. You can't save everyone, you're just a mere human! Humans can barely grab on to what they already have and they still keep reaching out for more and more—that's a different kind of greed, but it's still greed, Jisung!"

"Isn't it okay to be greedy for a bit?" Jisung counters. "Isn't it okay to be shortsighted and selfish and wish for the best for the people I care about? Isn't it okay…?" His voice twists with grief. "Isn't it okay to want something?"

Minho watches him silently before tilting his head back to stare at the dim lights that glowed softly against the ceiling. "Of course not. In this world, everyone wants something. And there will always be someone else who will try to stop them, whether for better or for worse. There is no good or bad in the world, only humans that make decisions for what they want. In the end, everything is selfishness, but no one likes selfishness. So it's not okay to want."

Jisung flinches. "Stop acting like you know everything ...dumbass." There's no bite in the name-calling, only a resignation that Minho selfishly wishes could just get out of this man. Resignation didn't belong to the strong-willed, stubborn Jisung.

Minho laughs mirthlessly and rises to his feet, grabbing Jisung's arms and pulling him to his feet. Jisung's eyes widen at the sudden movement and his gaze snaps down to Minho's hands. He falters back and loses his balance, his eyes like saucers as his vision rakes across Minho, taking in his pearly skin and catlike eyes, his refined features and forlorn bearing; He looked the same as he always had, but something was different. 

"Give me your hand."

Minho's eyes widen. "What?" His gaze narrows for the briefest of moments before he bursts into dry laughter. "Why, if you liked me that much, why didn't you just say so sooner?"

"Oh, shut up," Jisung huffs, reaching for the brunette's hand and grasping it tightly. And then tighter, until his fingernails would've sunken painfully into Minho's flesh. Only it doesn't. Jisung's eyes widen as his fingers seem to pass slightly through Minho's skin, just beneath his dead veins until it comes to a solid stop about a centimetre deep, as though it had finally encountered firm flesh. His eyes narrow and his shoulders slump. "... I thought so."

Minho tears his hand out of Jisung's grip, eyes wide with a desperate kind of indignation. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I saw it when you had that argument with Changbin earlier," Jisung declares, his eyes dull and unusually grave. "Your fingers were almost knuckle deep in his shoulders, and he couldn't feel a thing." Jisung reaches out for Minho's hand once again, only for the man to flinch back, holding it in his other. "Your skin is changing too... Minho—"

"...so you've realized it too, eh?"

Jisung's brow creases. "I actually remember things you tell me, you know. Minus forgetting my memories, I actually remember things really well. You've been dead for a while, Minho...your skeleton is probably gone after that fire. You have no remains left. You told me that if their remains are gone, a ghost will disappear even if it doesn't pass on..."

Minho purses his lips and stares at his glassy fingers, stretching them out absently. "So what? I was bound to fade away anyway. I was prepared for it."

A displeased frown curls onto Jisung’s lips. “What the hell, Minho, since when did you get so complacent?”

“Since when did _you_ get so resigned?" Minho bites back. "What does it matter to you if I fade? Ever since I found out that I still had to exist after I died, I wanted to disappear! You wouldn’t understand how difficult it is to have to live like this! With no one who could see you or talk to you! Only the animals knew I existed! For twenty years!” Minho grips Jisung’s upper arms, and Jisung flinches when the man’s fingers sink past his skin as though there was no substance to them. 

Minho stares at Jisung, his grip tightening. “All of you were the best thing that happened to me,” he whispers roughly. “For the first time in twenty years someone could see me. Someone could talk to me. I could be human again. I wasn’t a ghost, I wasn’t Lee Minho or Yang Minho, I was just Minho.” Jisung’s eyes widen when he sees Minho’s eyes brimming with tears. Minho’s eyes clench shut “But then I realized that you could see me because you were probably the one that was here to release me. I could finally pass on.” 

“Minho—”

Against his already pearly skin, hot tears glistered like jewels. Jisung swallows and carefully pries Minho’s fingers out of his arms. Minho’s jaw tightens. “You’re a brat, you know. You’re an insufferable, idealistic, impertinent brat. Ever since you were a child, you thought you were entitled. The reason why you love art so much, you remember it, don’t you? I was the one who snuck you crayons and paper when you were taken for checkups. It was the only way you’d calm down.” He stares into Jisung’s wide eyes with a fiery gaze. “I would’ve never thought that you would have come back to that place so many years later...with no memories.” 

“Hey— you’re not making sense—” 

“Shut up!” Minho grabs Jisung’s head in his cold, undulating hands. “That was the happiest moment since I died, seeing you alive! Everyone else is gone, Jisung, you’re the only one that’s left.” Minho’s shapely eyes rake over Jisung’s features. “It’s a stupid, selfish happiness, Jisung, I was happy that I had at least saved you. But then all of you found out about me and everything that had been built up at that moment just crashed. I hadn’t saved anyone. You’re all still in danger, and now I’m going to disappear. I’ll disappear and I’ll have failed. That’s why, until I’m gone, I need to protect all of you!”

Jisung, who had abandoned stopping the man’s tirade, just listens with his eyes downcast and head hanging. He stiffly moves Minho’s hands off of his face and pushes them away. “Really?” Minho’s forehead creases. Jisung’s head snaps up and he glares at the man. “Is that really all you have to say?”

“Jisung—”

“Stop trying to shoulder everything by yourself, one Chan hyung is bad enough!” Jisung snaps. “It’s not your fate to protect me or protect anyone! I don’t even believe in fate!” Jisung stares up at him, sitting back on his feet on the floor. “Do what you do because you want to, not because you need to! You don’t _need_ to do anything! You’re _dead_ , for goodness sake, what makes you think you have obligations any more?” Jisung stands so that he’s now staring down at the wide-eyed Minho. “I was a kid when we first met, but I’ve grown up now, Minho. I’m still immature and I may be an insufferable, idealistic, impertinent brat, but I can take care of myself and think for myself now.” 

Before Minho can open his mouth to retort, Jisung interrupts once again. “Do something because you _want_ to, Minho. Choose what you're going to do. Make the future you want, not the future that you wished had happened. We’re all responsible for ourselves in this world now. Don’t do anything because you feel responsible for us, do something because you want to stand with us where we stand!”

A few moments of tense silence stretch between them, Jisung towering over Minho, who still knelt on the primly tidied bed, staring up at him in astonishment. It takes the elder of the two a short while to compose himself, but when he finally does, a hint of a smile steals over his round lips. “Do something because I want to, you say?” he echoes, his voice peculiarly soft.

Jisung nods, prepared to defend his words yet again, but when his lips part he feels a coolness against them. His eyes widen as he finds Minho’s face just a little too close to his, the man’s long eyelashes almost brushing against his skin, the perpetual coolness that radiated off of him instead of warmth washing over Jisung...and the airy softness of his lips against Jisung’s own, slightly dry ones. Jisung’s eyes widen comically as his heart stutters against his ribcage.

Minho draws back after a few moments with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight smirk on his lips despite the stale teartracks that cling to his dimly glowing skin. The man shrugs nonchalantly. “That's something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened :O  
> Quite a lot of things happened, in fact  
> Thank you for taking time out of your day to read, and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time~


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the next chapter dear readers~  
> We're slowly but surely nearing the end of the story, and I have to say it's been pretty wild  
> There are still plenty of things that are going to happen, so I hope you're all looking forward to it!  
> Thank you all for sticking with me for so long <3  
> Without further ado, let's go

Sneaking into his father's office had been the least of Jeongin's worries. It took only a light conversation dripping with falsified ease, a little time, and swift movement once his father had left the area with a medium-sized cooler. The more Jeongin wondered what was within the cooler, the less he wanted to think of it. Now, in the darkness of the lonesome expanse occupied with little else but bookshelves, file cabinets and papers galore, Jeongin had only his old phone to accompany him, the LED flashlight illuminating his path since he didn't dare risk turning the office lights on.

The emptiness within the room overcast by shadow upon shadow becomes glaringly apparent as Jeongin pads over the wooden floor, his footsteps echoing like thunder in the lonely space. He treads carefully, as though a wrong step could mean disaster (it probably could), his gaze darting around the area as though expecting something or someone to jump at him. He shudders and raises a hand to his chest, gripping his shirt in hopes to calm his paranoia. 

His day had been an uneventful, restless wait for this very moment, dancing around his mother's concerned interrogations, fleeing the affections of the housekeepers and very pointedly avoiding his father at every given opportunity to save face. But now, here, at this moment, time seemed to move too fast despite the stillness, minutes ticking by at the speed of light, each moment of hesitation counting itself against him. Hyunjin had to be somewhere here, and Jeongin needed to find him. 

Rounding the bookshelf, Jeongin finds himself at an oaken door, standing so prevalently in the open that it was rendered inconspicuous in its own juxtaposed way. When he touches the wooden grain, his attention is drawn to the fact that it was not wood at all, but some faux, bizarrely realistic lamination over something that was so frigid it may as well have been steel. Jeongin rests a hand on the door and pulls it open. It takes him a significant amount of effort, the door certainly being made of steel, but when he pulls it open, he's met with coldness and a sense of anticlimax when he sees nothing within the small room but more of the file cabinets.

Fluorescent light bathes the small room with barely enough room to step a single pace, lined from ground to ceiling by the beige cabinets. Jeongin purses his lips, the incessant hammering of his heart relaxing somewhat, and silently wonders if he had gone through all this trouble of snooping around just to discover the wrong room. He pokes at the locked cabinets and frowns, prepared to retreat back, but gasps sharply when the heavy door shuts at his back with a thud and the floor begins to tremble beneath him. A sharp pain lances through his chest as momentary panic tears through him, draining the blood from his face, and he whirls around to try and open the door, but it slips out of his reach as the room itself begins to descend and oh—

Jeongin's hands naturally rise to cling to his upper arms in a defensive gesture as he realizes that he's in an elevator. Who had set the thing into motion or why, he didn't know, but what he was aware of was that it most certainly hadn't been him that caused the movement. Which meant that someone else would be boarding the elevator. Which meant he would be inevitably discovered. Jeongin swallows back the pounding of his heart that thudded heavily in his throat and wills himself to calm down. The least he could hope for was that he wouldn't be immediately disposed of. These were people who hadn't hesitated to incinerate Felix and Jisung's home. That's right—their habitation was gone now. 

Despite his current predicament, Jeongin couldn't ignore the pulsating guilt that cascaded down his skin; it had been his fault that their home had been specifically located in the first place after all. Him and his stupid heart. 

He doesn't have much more time to wallow in self pity, as another door comes sliding into view and opens cleanly to reveal a rather short woman with a bob cut of hair, straight nose and stern eyes behind a pair of rectangle-rimmed glasses. A surgical mask is pulled over her nose and mouth and a doctor's coat drapes over her shoulders, but more importantly, her eyes are most certainly fixed on him, and for the first time in a long while, Jeongin wishes he was invisible. Petrified to the spot, he just stands stiffly as she scrutinizes him with a perfectly deadpan expression. 

"Sir, the elevator." 

Jeongin jolts slightly, startled by her husky voice, and he naturally skitters out of the small space and into the blaring, white corridor. She nods simply and strides inside of the space, turning to face him and meeting his eyes once again. He draws in a careful breath, bidding his heart still, and closes his eyes for a brief moment after the door hides her piercing gaze from him. It had been too fortunate that there had been no questions of his presence, nor blatant assault. Perhaps it was the luck of being his father's son. Jeongin shakes his head quickly. Whatever the case, he was definitely in the place that he had been searching for.

Turning about face from the elevator, he bolts aimlessly through the labyrinth of corridors, passing by closed doors and windows that opened operating tables for viewing. His eyes widen when he sees a vague shape of a human covered by a tarpaulin. He quickly runs past that scene, the beginnings of tears amalgamating in his eyes as the gravity of the situation that he was currently in slowly sinks into his cold mind, little by little but prevalently. Goosebumps rise on his greyish skin and fear freezes his blood within his veins. This wasn't playtime any more. This was life and death. This was flagrant murder.

He raises a hand to his mouth and stops short in the white hall as he chases after his breath, feeling sick to his stomach. The oppressive, hospital-esque, sterilized malodor cuts off any other smell, and Jeongin doesn't know whether to be grateful for it or frightened by it. His insides churn and he retches into his hand, leaning against the brightly illuminated wall. Surely that wasn't Hyunjin. It couldn't be. Whatever blood remained in Jeongin's face washes out entirely, leaving him pale as a sheet, rooted to the spot and without enough breath in his lungs. That body—

“ _Who killed cock robin...who killed cock robin? I, said the sparrow, with my little bow and arrow, it was I, oh, it was I…_ ”

Jeongin's eyes widen at the familiar voice and he naturally runs towards its source, bypassing empty cells shielded by transparent glass with shallow gasps leaving his throat. He screeches to a half in front of the humming that cut through the otherwise pitifully silent place like a spear. Heart racing, he lets out a choked noise of relief his legs losing their strength at the sight of a rather disheveled Hyunjin laying on his back on the bed and mumbling some morose tune in accented English.

"Huh? You're back already?" Hyunjin sits up and turns to face the glass. "So that means you're finished with the oth— Jeongin?!" The man's eyes fly wide open and he bolts to his feet, running to the glass and pressing his palms flat against it, staring down at the younger. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?! You shouldn't be here, Innie, it's dangerous!" His voice bubbles over his lips before he can control himself, eyes scanning the younger worriedly. Jeongin didn't look well at all, with his hand clutching his chest, beads of sweat forming at his fringe and skin blanched. 

"Hyung— hyung, what are you saying?!" Jeongin gasps, raising his head and scrambling to his feet, leaning so close to the glass that his shallow breaths fog the cool surface of it. "You're the one that's in danger! I— I thought you were dead!"

Hyunjin stares at him blankly for a few moments before his features twist into a grin. "...dead? Me?" His eyes widen slightly and Jeongin nearly falters back at the dreadful glint in Hyunjin's eyes that said far more than his words ever would. "Jeonginnie, I won't die off that easily." He prods the glass with a finger. "You shouldn't worry about me. You should be getting out of here instead because this isn't a safe place."

Jeongin's fist meets the glass with a dull thump. "Do you hear yourself, hyung? If this is a dangerous place, you should be getting out of here too!" 

Hyunjin shakes his head and taps against the glass with a lax smile, the delicate, almost chime-like sound ricocheting through the vacant, white halls. “Jeonginnie, Jeonginnie, Jeonginnie. I have things that I have to do. You have things you have to do too, so don’t waste your time here, okay? This isn’t a safe place.” The man’s voice is placating, gentle and borderline patronizing. “You can’t be here.”

The younger shakes his head rapidly. “Hyung, are you crazy? You could be—”

“Gutted like a fish,” Hyunjin chirps cheerily. “A lamb to the slaughter, murdered, eviscerated, you name it. Yes, I know.” The man taps at the glass again, his fingertip pointedly prodding the area whereupon Jeongin’s forehead would have been, was not a screen of impenetrable glass between them. “There were others here too, Innie. They were taken away and I didn’t see them come back. I’m going to be next soon, you know. And there isn’t anything you can do about it, so why are you trying to convince me to do something?”

Jeongin’s hands fall limply to his side, strength inadequate to so much as curl his fingers into fists. His heart patters erratically, mockingly, against his chest and the corners of his eyes burn with a semblance of tears that refused to materialize. It wasn’t as though Hyunjin was wrong—he _had_ cavorted into this area with a vague impression of what would meet his eyes, but without a plan or knowledge of this technology. The one with that knowledge was Hyunjin, and Hyunjin… Jeongin stares at him blankly. “You’re just going to give up like that?"

Hyunjin leans closer to the glass, head tilted slightly and eyes partially lidded as he stares intently at Jeongin. As he speaks, his lips brush against the cool surface, his slow breath warming the frigid glass. "I...don't...want...you...here," he articulates slowly, eyes crinkled. Jeongin's eyes fly wide open and his pupils shrink as the words sink into his brain. He falters, his fingers curling into his palms. The heel of Hyunjin's hand meets his forehead and he breathes out a taut sigh. "I don't care about what happens, Innie. It's not like this is new—they can take a life, but they can't take a mind." Hyunjin shifts back. "They don't know that you know me, Jeonginnie. If they find out, they're going to use you against me, or they're going to use me against you. It's dangerous for both of us if you're here."

"But—"

"But nothing, young man." 

Hyunjin's eyes widen like saucers as Jeongin crumples onto the white, linoleum floor as though his muscles had decided now was the perfect time to fail him. His blood runs cold as Hyunjin's eyes meet large ones, glimmering with a twisted light, and a grotesque sneer on delicately glossed lips. In the left hand of the woman rests a combat knife, pommel brandished downwards. Hyunjin stares at her, frozen in place, the sight of her shoulder-length wavy brown hair, delicate skin, and gently pronounced cheekbones that bore an uncanny resemblance to Jeongin's burning into his mind. 

Hefting Jeongin upright by the collar of his shirt with a shocking amount of strength for such a willowy figure, she stares down at the younger's pale, unconscious face with an expression of ugly vexation on her own. "I didn't raise a rebellious son."

Hyunjin's surprise fades off as quickly as it had come to be replaced with a ghastly, coiling, serpentine sensation in his gut that intertwined the fingers of apprehension and fury. His lips part but then close once more. He could not afford to lose his composure, not here, not now. Closing his eyes, he draws in a deep breath and holds it for a short while before exhaling slowly. These faces were nothing new to him. He knew better than anyone else how hideous the most beautiful faces could be. Perhaps it was why he despised his own alluring face so. When he opens his eyes, he meets those of the woman, Jeongin's mother, staring him down like a serpent.

Without a word, she turns her back to him and strides off with Jeongin hefted over her delicate shoulder as though he weighed nothing more than a feather. 

Hyunjin stares helplessly at her back, nails gliding uselessly over the smooth glass as he claws at it in a fruitless instinct, as though it would remove Jeongin from that woman's clutches. The moment she's out of sight and earshot, he draws in a breath, a prickling sensation crawling its way up his back. His vision blurs momentarily before focussing in on the camera that peered down at him from the corner of the cell. Hyunjin's fingers grasp his shirt and he tears it off with a grimace, tossing it over the camera.

Perhaps it had been laziness disguised as caution, but now that they had Jeongin, he couldn't afford to be detained in this place. Hyunjin whines softly to himself, cracking his knuckles nervously. He didn't like physical activity apart from dancing. He despised placing effort into needless things. He didn't fear death because everything and everyone would die eventually. But if there was at least one thing that he couldn't bear to think about, it was the thought of being chained to place by the presence of another human whom he cared about. And he certainly wasn't about to let Jeongin be placed in the same situation because the younger man was indisputably kinder than he was. Jeongin wouldn't be able to withstand the pressure of jeopardizing his situation.

Flexing his fingers, he curls his hand into a fist and brandishes his arm before driving it forward into the wall beside the glass screen in an astonishingly violent gesture. He winces as his knuckles split against the drywall which he had only managed to dent. Hyunjin pouts at his bleeding knuckles. "Ow…"

Sighing, he pads his way back to the bed and reaches for the monitor. He'd risk losing the signal that he had so painstakingly arranged to ensure that he could be found, but some risks were worthwhile in the taking, he supposed. He picks up the monitor carefully and sighs. "Thanks for helping out," he mumbles before tearing the device from its wires and less-than-gracefully hurling it at the dented drywall. 

Maybe it was stupid but he had no time to think about potential outcomes. The wall cracks and falls into uneven chunks of drywall onto the floor along with the fragments of the monitor, now in hopeless disrepair. Behind the shapeless hole in the drywall, the steel front wall laced intricately with wires that didn't look safe in the slightest stares Hyunjin in the face, as though mocking his hopes of breaking through with mere brute force. A thrill rushes through him; despite himself, Hyunjin couldn't quite push away the excitement of seeing the familiar view of metal and rubber. He pokes at the agglomeration of wires with a tentative finger before shaking his head. Now was not the time to be distracted by these things. He needed to get out of here.

Locating the keypad, or at least the back of it, he tugs at the wires compulsively, flinching at the blaring alarm that announces the code had been entered incorrectly. He frowns and draws in a breath. They had removed him from the cell-room more than once. He hadn't seen the numbers that had been punched into the keypad, but he certainly remembered what they sounded like from when the bob cut lady brought him out and locked him back in. Multiple times. Fortunately, after the handcuffs incident she hadn't restrained him again. Humming softly to himself, he pulls at the wires again. He likely didn't have much time before they found out he was acting up. He only needed to escape before they could threaten harming Jeongin to force him into submission. 

Every second was precious, so as the alarm blares out again, Hyunjin groans. He hums again and tugs on the wires, wishing that he could see the physical keypad. The code was almost in his reach, and every fibre of his being was aware of it. He just needed to tweak a few wires... Heart pounding within his ribcage, he finally matches the code to the tune that his ears had memorized as his fingers loop on the final wire and tug sharply, no sound meets his ears. A glimmer of victory shines bright in his eyes as the glass door slides back, leaving him free to run. Breathing in an exhilarated gasp, he tears his shirt from the camera and throws it over himself as he bolts out of the cell. 

Of course, no peace could last so long. Hyunjin freezes at the sound of footsteps and voices, one of which he recognized prominently. Sweat beading at his brow, he stares down the white corridor and promptly hurries down into an operating room, shutting himself inside. He definitely hated every inch of this bleached place, white and far too clean for the horrific things that happened in it. He winces as his eyes land on the tarp that covered a mass on the steel operating table. The skin of the feet that peeked from the bottom of the tarp were deathly pale and already beginning to shrivel slightly. There was no hair on the crown that was blanketed by the tarp; it had likely been shaved off.

Hiding behind the operating table, he peers out the window as the bob cut lady strides down the hallway. Hyunjin had little doubt that she had come to collect him. Which meant she would be hunting him down the moment she saw his cell door open. He shudders. Women were scary. The moment he deems her distant enough from him, he pops up from behind the table and veers around it to run outside, mumbling a wordless prayer for under the poor soul underneath the tarp. At least it hadn't been the child that he had encountered, but the dread settled in his mind when he realizes that the little boy was probably splayed on his final bed and covered by his last blanket in another room

Grimacing, Hyunjin darts out of the operating room, his legs moving quicker than he realized they could when he hears a yell of outrage behind him and the terrifying sound of stilettos clacking much faster than they ever should against the linoleum floor. More than ever, Hyunjin hated the fact that the hallways were empty and such a pristine white. It left him and his teal scrubs sticking out like a sore thumb, and he swears he feels his heart stop as he hears the sound of a gun slide clicking ominously behind him. 

"Oh...this isn't good," he mumbles under his breath, lips pursing into a pout. He doesn't dare chance a glance back—he knows what he'd find. Swerving the corner, Hyunjin's eyes zone in on the elevator which, fortunately, was not disguised in this white hellhole. Vision tunnelling, Hyunjin runs for the door, his footsteps ringing alongside the blood that rushed in his ears, his fingers lunging for the glinting steel buttons.

A gunshot echoes resonantly through the corridors, soon followed by an agonized screech that tears itself violently from Hyunjin's throat as a crimson stain blossoms rapidly over his shirt.

* * *

Jisung feels the blood rush to his face at the realization of what had just occurred. He gapes at Minho, eyes like saucers. In any normal situation he would be cussing the man out, but at the moment, despite the self-satisfied look on Minho's face, Jisung finds his mind blank, his lips spread apart with no words on his tongue. Minho had just—

"Lee Jisung, if you keep your mouth open like that, you'll catch flies," Minho chirps, reaching out to grip his chin gently and rest a thumb on his bottom lip. 

Jisung immediately flinches back at the gesture, scrambling across the bed, still blatantly gawping at Minho. "Wh-what—"

"Who would have thought that was all I needed to make you shut up," Minho drawls slowly before eyeing Jisung with concern fluttering over his gaze. "Are you okay?"

Jisung's brow creases. "We were talking about people dying and how this thing we're all going to do is stupid dangerous and you just kissed me, Minho, how am I supposed to respond?" He huffs, still gathering his wits about him. He had very blatantly been caught grossly off-guard. 

"That's the Jisung I know," Minho retorts sarcastically. He frowns. "I don't know whether you liked it or not because you don't look too pleased but you also haven't slapped me in the face."

"That doesn't matter right now!" Jisung gripes, fighting down the redness in his cheeks. "Why the hell did you even do that?"

Minho scratches his head with evident confusion glimmering in his large eyes. "...because I am weirdly attracted to your godawful face and personality, why else?" He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. "Do I need another good reason?"

"I don't know whether to feel flattered or offended," Jisung sighs wryly. 

"Neither." Minho frowns. "Maybe it's one of those stupid things where you don't want to die without regretting something again." He flexes his fingers out in front of his face with a sigh, eyeing the slight translucency. "Last time it was not being able to save everyone. This time I don't want to go anywhere regretting something that I wanted to do but never did." He laughs mirthlessly. "Look at me, being all cliché. At least I do it well."

Jisung snorts. "Wow, you really can't say anything without dragging me and praising yourself, can you?" 

"It's a talent."

Jisung rolls his eyes and touches his lips with a frown. "Look. No one's gonna die—" Minho stares at him, unimpressed. A reluctant huff passes Jisung's lips. "Okay, we're going to try our best to make sure that no one dies, happy now?"

"I'll be perfectly candid with you, hon, not really," Minho drawls. His eyes catch onto Jisung's once again and they find themselves staring at each other in a sudden moment of silence after the pause that seemed to last for minutes, Jisung looks away at the suddenly fascinating corner of the wall, rubbing the back of his neck absently and fighting down the still present flush on his skin. 

Yeah, it's a stupid promise," Jisung mumbles after a while, his hand falling to rest on his thigh.

Minho breathes out a stiff sigh. "Hey, Jisung, look at me." When the younger glances up at him reluctantly, he frowns. "You don't have to like me or anything. I get it, I'm a pain to deal with and so are you. I just don't want to not say something I should have and regret it for the rest of my...whatever this is. Afterlife?"

Jisung grimaces. "This is so damn weird, Minho. You're at least twenty years older than me. And you're dead."

"And you're awfully calm considering what you just said," Minho retorts his voice slightly monotonous, his gaze narrowed and indecipherable.

The silence between them persists uncomfortably long, with neither of the pair daring to break it. Beneath Jisung's fidgeting, the mattress creaks and within a few seconds of unbearably thick quietness, Jisung finally opens his mouth. "Okay, it's weird because I've known you from before. It's weird because of who you are and what you are and what situation we're in now." He ducks his head. "Still…"

Minho blinks owlishly. "You know, if you like me, you can just say it."

"Don't push it, Minho," Jisung mumbles, his voice barely audible and his gaze pointedly averted. Out of the corners of his vision he catches the smirk that creeps onto Minho's lips and he groans. "...oh, you're gonna push it aren't you."

“Hell yes,” Minho murmurs, moving himself away from the headboard to lean closer into Jisung. “Just stop playing hard-to-get and admit you’re into me so I can kiss you again, okay?”

Jisung’s face burns a fresh shade of red and his lips purse obstinately into a taut line. After a few more languorous moments of silence, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, I’m into you. Now shut up and kiss me.” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Minho chuckles.

“Didn’t I say shut up?” Jisung huffs, leaning forward and propping himself up with one arm. The fingers of his free hand curl up in Minho’s shirt and he pulls the man closer, stealing his lips before he has the chance to react. Jisung’s eyes are awkwardly closed, pinched shut as though he didn’t exactly know what he was doing, and although it was hopelessly juvenile of him, Minho couldn’t help but find it terribly cute in a slightly irritating, characteristically Jisung kind of way.

He reaches up to cradle Jisung’s head, noting the younger’s skin flushing against his touch. He tilts the man’s head slightly and adjusts their position almost methodically. It wasn't anything particularly emotion-driven or even sincere, almost as though both of them were testing the waters of something that they both wanted to explore. Nonetheless, it was genuine for what it was: a nervous, tentative kiss.

There were so many problems with this, and Jisung knew it full well, but neither of the pair wanted to approach such topics, especially not in the face of their current predicament. After all, things were complex enough without throwing the tribulations of a newfound reciprocation of tentative feelings into the mix, and neither of them were particularly keen on throwing fuel onto that fire just yet. 

After all, it was only as good as a dream. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t last and both of them were all too aware of it. Obviously, avoiding the heart of the matter was the simplest way to escape _feelings_ while still getting them the physical contact that they both craved from each other. Sexual tension as Minho flatly labelled it, refusing to call it anything else lest it put both of their mentalities in jeopardy. They couldn’t risk anything beyond it—not now.

So when Jisung pulls back, Minho near dives towards him, crashing their lips together violently, overturning their position until Jisung is pinned down against the mattress, the younger’s hands gripping the collar of his shirt as he reciprocates with what fervence he can muster, teeth scraping against Minho’s skin as his lips part and his tongue slips out his mouth to meet Minho’s. 

Wincing only slightly, Minho hisses softly against Jisung’s mouth, his hand slipping behind the man’s head and fingers slithering through his brown locks that felt slightly greasy to the touch, but at this point Minho really couldn’t be bothered. Everything about this was convoluted and something in Minho’s gut screamed at him to pull away. This was only taking advantage of his own transience, taking advantage of Jisung’s unstable emotions and mind, but he didn’t want to stop. Minho’s pale skin would have flushed scarlet with shame as he hears Jisung groan beneath him. 

Moving away from Jisung until their faces were only connected by a slick thread of saliva, Minho’s brow furrows as he finds the younger’s face flushed and disoriented. Before he has the chance to so much as speak a word, Jisung grabs his collar again and heaves him downwards, sealing their mouths together, their teeth clacking roughly, and Minho winces slightly as the taste of something metallic creeps into his mouth—Jisung, in all his vehemence, had cut his lip against Minho’s teeth.

Nonetheless, the younger takes control of the kiss this time around. Jisung’s movements were messy and inexperienced, something much expected of him, but he was a quick learner, and Minho would be lying if he said Jisung wasn’t a damn good kisser. This time when the younger pulls away for breath, his gaze is clouded and half-lidded, and his spit-slicked lips are bloodied and swollen. He smirks faintly at Minho, and something about the confident assertion steals Minho’s breath. The guilt in Minho’s chest cements itself there painfully. Did Jisung think that this really meant something?

Minho shifts to pry Jisung’s fingers off his shirt, which would certainly be hopelessly crumpled with how tightly the younger held onto it. "Jisung, this—" his voice dries up and withers in his throat, his eyes following Jisung’s tongue as it slips out to lap at the shallow cut on his lip. He near whimpers at his lack of resistance and leans down again to messily lay his mouth over Jisung’s again, catching his kiss-swollen, bleeding lower lip between his teeth. 

Jisung groans and meets Minho's gaze through partially lidded eyes, breath leaving his lips in a hot puff of air. Lapping at the shallow cut on Jisung's lip, Minho finds his fingers crawling down Jisung's sides, scraping shallowly past the fabric of his shirt to contact flushed skin in desperate attempts to bring them closer together, sear them together so that this could burn his weak existence to Jisung's side. The thought strikes him like a wave of cold water. This couldn't happen—Jisung was alive and he...well, wasn't. He moves away from Jisung's lips his brow furrowing as a moment's clarity breezes through his mind. A bothered whine elicits from the younger's lips at the loss of contact.

Jisung’s hands move away from Minho’s shirt to bury themselves in his hair, constraining him from moving away. His eyes slide partially shut as he drags Minho into yet another bruising kiss, less lip and more teeth and tongue. It was addicting, kissing Minho. It sent a burning euphoria through his blood, his heart thumping so violently within his ribcage that he swears Minho could hear it. Each time they parted, Jisung only wanted to kiss him again. Perhaps it was a twisted kind of deprivation that made him crave contact this much; maybe it was just Minho that he craved. But Jisung knew that this was a Pandora’s box that Minho had unlocked and he himself had opened. 

He didn’t want to close it.

A shudder wracks through his slim frame as Minho's cold fingers snake their way under his shirt, raising goosebumps on his flushed, heated skin. He groans into Minho's mouth, nerves hyperaware and senses on a fiery overdrive. Any more would be too much for him to take; Minho's intimate proximity itself threatened to swallow him whole and leave him a boneless mass of sudden, whelming desire. He wanted to be closer. Grappling at Minho's shoulders, Jisung grimaces when his fingers sink in just a little more than they should have, snapping him to brutal reality. This wasn't something he could afford to succumb to. He wasn't even sure if this was derived from any feelings, or if it was merely some diversion fuelled from stress and tension. Whatever this was, it wasn't right—it would never be. After all, Minho was a figment of the past. He could not perpetuate his own existence.

Lowering his hands to Minho's chest, Jisung pushes the man off of himself firmly, his eyes wide and dazed, skin rosy and lips swollen and shining with saliva that was only fractionally his own. He draws in a breath, forearm falling over his eyes as he loses his strength, laying with his back pressed flat against the mattress. His skin tingles with the unsatisfying sensation of being left hanging although he had been the one to end their contact. And although he knew he shouldn't want it, he wanted Minho to kiss him again, craved his eerily cold touch against his burning hot skin. His jaw tightens with resentment and he lowers his arm from his eyes to meet Minho's impregnable, sultry gaze which bored holes into him.

"Damn it, stop looking and kiss me," he grits out in his moment of weakness, leaning up to seal Minho's lips with his own, which were somewhat sore and swollen from the intensity of the kisses they had shared before. To his surprise, Minho only shifts away, but then leans down to mesh their lips together carefully, gently. The man moves back once again and stares silently at Jisung, and it strikes Jisung how vacant Minho's gaze truly was. There was something drifting behind the glimmering brown eyes and long lashes, something melancholic and almost afraid.

Jisung doesn't have much more time to dwell on the matter as a knock on the door sends them both scrambling away from each other, Minho brushing down his creased shirt and Jisung rubbing his soiled lips, gnawing at the corner of the kiss-swollen skin. The door creaks open to reveal Changbin, who eyes them both curiously but makes no comment to Minho's slightly disheveled appearance or Jisung's flushed skin. He jerks a thumb back with an exigent glint in his dark eyes. "Guys, we have to head out now. We lost Hyunjin's signal."

Jisung is the first of the pair to jump to his feet, nodding and hurrying out of the room to be met with the sight of Felix seated at the coffee table with Changbin's laptop on one thigh and a fast-asleep Kkami on the other. Seungmin is seated on the cushioned chair behind him, looking terribly drowsy. Painkillers, Jisung deduces before turning to face Woojin, who eyes him up and down silently. 

The news was quite possibly the worst they could receive in their circumstances; Jisung couldn't imagine how Woojin must be feeling, but there was one thing he was certain of, and that was the fact that not a hint of his emotions were displayed on his face. Jisung pads tentatively towards him only for the man to offer him a calm smile. "You look like you've been using your time," he hums cryptically with a knowing look written on his features, and Jisung's eyes widen, his cheeks reddening despite himself as he rubs his cheeks with his palms. He had forgotten how scary Woojin was again. He really needed to stop doing that.

"Gee, thanks, hyung," he huffs. "And you look like you would do yoga during an earthquake, I dunno…" He pouts and casts a glance around, quickly recovering his composure. "Where's Chan hyung?"

Woojin glances down the hallway. "He had something in the car that he needed to grab. He's preparing in the guest room. He should be here—"

Before Woojin can finish his sentence, the blonde emerges from the bedroom, carrying with him a silver case that Jisung had never seen before. There's a dead serious light shining in the man's eyes and as Minho breaks out of a muttered conversation with Changbin to join the rest of them in the living room, Jisung frowns.

"All right," Chan calls, rallying their attention to himself (apart from Seungmin, who had dozed off from his medication). He looks from one to the other. "We can't waste any time. We can't follow Hyunjin's signal any more, but at least we have the coordinates." His gaze falls on Changbin. "Do you have your old phone?"

"Lix and I programmed it so he can track it," Changbin affirms, pulling the device out of his pocket and holding it up. Felix nods in agreement and turns the screen of the laptop to show the blinking light on the grid.

Chan nods and turns to eye Woojin. "How are the medical supplies? We can't risk anything."

Woojin smiles. "All replenished. I managed to grab a few extra things when I went to pick up Seungmin's painkillers and Jeongin's anticoagulants." He slings the kit across his shoulder and straightens up slightly. "I also have sterilized mats in case anything requires more attention."

"Thanks, Wooj," Chan breathes out, relief evident in his gaze. His eyes fall on Minho. "You can direct us," he states. "You know your way best around there, so we're relying on you."

"Don't worry your handsome head over it," Minho hums, waving him off. "I'll get you in there." His voice hardens. "But each one of you, be careful. This isn't going to be fun and games. Never leave your backs open. Stick together, and no matter what, don't panic."

"Understood," Chan accepts easily. Jisung finally meets his eyes as they settle on him. "Jisung, when we come across Hyunjin and especially Jeongin, I need you to stay with them. Jeongin is in no state to be running around. Someone will need to help him get out safely. I'm trusting you." Jisung's eyes shift over to Felix and the blonde nods at him, worrying at his lip despite the faith in his glassy eyes. Jisung turned to Chan and nods, determination lighting a fire in his gaze. "Count on me," he assures.

Chan nods, his lips still pressed into a keen line. "All right. I'm trusting all of you. I'll have your backs, so focus on your tasks. Minho will lead us in. Changbin and Jisung will follow and I'll bring up the rear. Woojin, you'll be in a pretty unsafe situation if they find you, so if moving is necessary, do what you need to. We can't use any other devices because it'll make us more vulnerable than we already are. We're running blind, but I believe we can do this."

"That doesn't sound reassuring, but hey, I'll take it," Changbin hums dryly. "By the way, what's in the case, hyung?"

Jisung turns curiously to eye the older man. Changbin had beat him to the question, but he wanted to know the answer as well. He frowns as Chan hesitates. The man seemed to be caught in an internal debate before he unclips the latches on the case and pulls it open to reveal a set of loaded magazines, auxiliary cartridges tucked safely into a separate ammo box and a combat handgun. He pulls up his jumper and shirt to reveal another pair tucked safely into a concealed holster. "Self-defense," he states coolly. His eyes drift back to Minho. "There's no chance I'm letting us go in there unarmed." He glances back at Woojin. “I’m leaving the third handgun with you, Woojin. You can decide what you’ll do with it.” In response, the older man just nods casually.

When Jisung finally regains himself enough to look around the room, he's relieved to see that he isn't the only one bug-eyed: both Changbin and Felix couldn't seem to believe their eyes, although Woojin just nods quietly as though he had either known all along or had expected it. Minho didn't seem too shocked either, leading Jisung's eyes to narrow in faint confusion. Seungmin was still fast asleep, so Jisung couldn't judge his response and, at this point, he couldn't guess either. To see their beloved, eternally exhausted, haemophobic, doctor-to-be hyung wielding firearms as though he had used them before came as a shock to most of them.

Chan sighs resignedly and offers them a tired smile, snapping the case shut and fastening the latches. "Explanations can wait. We need to get to Hyunjin and Jeongin first."

Fortunately, that logic was infallible, and within mere minutes, they're on the road, chasing the dusky sky to the looming estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have gotten a little self-indulgent with that kiss scene...  
> Many things happened in this chapter, and I hoped you all enjoyed it!  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read <3  
> Until next time~


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, and welcome to the next chapter~  
> I'm actually not too happy with this one if I'm being perfectly honest, but here it is for all of you anyway  
> I do hope you enjoy it much more than I did.  
> Without further ado, let's go~

“...so are you sure this is a good idea?” Jisung whispers tersely as Minho grabs onto his hand, hefting him up and over the wall with an astonishing amount of strength for someone so slender. In the dark of night, the man’s figure undulated subtly like a dying lamp, and it became all the more evident to Jisung that Minho was under his own pressurized countdown. 

Perhaps he should have had some more self-control, Jisung concludes bitterly as he hops down from the wall and onto the well-tended grass of the Yang property. He glances up to the man as Minho tug Chan over the wall as well and then shimmies down the surface to land lightly on the dewswept grass with barely a sound. Jisung recalls that Minho had committed himself to an expedition like this those twenty years ago, so when he needs to strain his perception to so much as catch wind of Minho breathing, he isn’t surprised. 

“No, it’s a terrible idea,” Minho replies candidly, casting them under the shadow of the wall, where the moon shielded them from visibility. “I’d stop you all if I could, but I know you’re too stubborn to listen so I'll save my breath this time.” 

“It was a rhetorical question, dumbass,” Jisung retorts softly, keeping his back firmly against the comforting sturdiness of the wall as he follows behind Minho, Changbin’s body warmth radiating onto him, the man was so close behind him. The tension that hung oppressively over them bites at Jisung’s skin and he flinches as a thin breeze caresses him, raising goosebumps. 

Minho glances back at him, features resting in a delicate deadpan. “Well then don’t waste your breath asking rhetorical questions. Dumbass.” Jisung opens his mouth to grace Minho with a potentially unsavoury retort, but he feels a sharp pain at his bicep and bites back a yelp instead. He whips around to glare at Changbin only for the shorter man to spare him an amused smirk. The realization that the tension had lifted off of his shoulders sinks into his mind. He ducks his head to hide a slight smile and pads after Minho.

It amazed Jisung how pretentious the place was that they needed to skulk about in the shadows for a few minutes to pass the courtyard before the estate itself drew close enough for him to make out the fine details in the sparse moonlight. The building was perhaps a few rooms short of a mansion, and Jisung's heart sinks at the thought of needing to scour every single room to find Hyunjin and Jeongin. He frowns at the estate that looms over them forebodingly and then tenses at the sound of footsteps which were definitely not his, or Minho's, or Changbin's, or Chan's for that matter.

Chan's hand drifts up to his torso, fingers curling slightly around the grip of his handgun, a guarded look in his eyes. Minho glances from one to the other and quickly hurries to the wall, gesturing urgently for them to follow. Jisung's fingers dig into his clammy palms as he follows Minho closely, willing himself to calm down, pressing his back flat against the marble wall and _god_ that wall was cold— He grabs Changbin's arm and yanks the man close to himself, more for the comfort of physical contact than anything else at the moment. The man tenses at his sudden action, and remains taut against him, not breathing a single word. When Jisung finally looks at him, he finds Changbin's eyes wide and his skin pale as a sheet, pulse hammering against his touch.

Chan stands ahead of them, cheek testing the iron framework of the grand window as he peers past the corner with darkened eyes. His weight shifts, his centre of gravity lowering and his breaths quieting. Gun firmly brandished in both hands and held close to his chest, muzzle pointed skywards, Chan waits. As the footsteps draw closer, Jisung closes his eyes, breath catching in his throat and refusing to elicit lest it give them away.

He feels a hand against his upper arm and he nearly jumps, his eyes flying open. He whips around, only to find Minho scanning their surroundings with a calculating expression in his catlike eyes. Although the man wasn't looking at him, his cold hand rests almost gently on Jisung's arm. It was almost...comforting. Jisung finds himself relaxing and he exhales softly.

The sound of footsteps draw closer and Minho's eyes narrow. He catches Chan's eye and nods at him before catching the sheathed knife that the blonde tugs from his leg and tosses at him. Chan then turns about face and runs opposite of them, out into the open. Jisung's eyes bug and his lips part unconsciously.

Minho's hand slaps over his mouth before he can make any other unwise decisions and the man spares him a warning glance before striding onwards. "He'll be all right. Trust me," he murmurs. Fingers looping around Jisung's wrist, he tugs the brunette along despite his active protests. "Seriously, shut up or you'll blow our cover," Minho hisses. "This place is crawling with Black Tiger's lackeys." 

Changbin's eyes widen. "Then the person that Chan stayed back for—"

"He'll be fine," Minho interrupts tersely. "Now keep moving." He leads them across the damp grass and to a large window. Minho frowns and pauses, staring up at the glass fixture, wrought iron framework slightly rusted. He purses his lips and runs his fingertips over the dilapidated workings.

"Hey why'd you stop?" Jisung hisses from behind him, hands tense on his shoulders. Automatically, he shrugs off the man's grip and glances back at them. 

"This used to be my room," he mutters. "It doesn't look like they've changed anything…" Looping his fingers around the grillwork of the window, he hefts himself up with the ease of a spider and easily scales the large window until he hangs a solid two and a half metres aboveground. Jisung and Changbin stare at him with wide eyes, neither of the pair keen on following suit lest they meet a rather painful contact with the ground. As soft as the grass felt now, Jisung strongly believed that it wouldn't cushion a fall from that height very well.

Minho, grabbing onto a bar that accentuated the beginnings of a fleur, feels about the decaying iron. In the darkness of night with no light save that of the moon which hid behind the wall, where Chan was likely confronting the cause of their haste (Minho could only hope that the silence registering in his ears spoke of good things), Minho could barely see a thing past the transparent window. Feeling about the fleur, his lips curl upwards grimly as he tugs down the latch behind the curled leaf, fingers shifting through the familiar working. Breathing out a relieved sigh, he slowly pulls up the glass, wincing at the resounding screech of the antiquated hinges. Glancing down at the two men standing below him, he smirks faintly and holds a finger up for the pair to wait before slipping through the gap that he had managed to pry open.

Landing with a practiced grace on the creaking, hardwood floorboards, Minho winces at the layer of dust that blankets the old drapes generously. It takes his eyes a few seconds to get accustomed to the darkness of the room, making out only vague shapes and little else. His body feels the air current in the room and comes under the deduction that there's either a powerful draft in the air or the air conditioning must be on. He purses his lips into a thin line and backs away from the window only to bump into something that felt vaguely like a table. 

Wincing, he pads forward a few inches and reaches for the window, feeling over the grille until he locates another set of corroded hinges. Groping about the frigid, frosty glass, he finally finds the latch and carefully pushes open the large panel, which rose a good few inches above his head and tapered to an apex. The muted light seeps into the room as Minho's eyes focus on Jisung and Changbin's figures. Behind them, he catches a rather pale Chan who didn't seem injured but looked rather perturbed. Silently, he steps aside to allow them inside. He smirks faintly. "Had them build me an escape route whenever business parties got too stuffy."

"You said this is your room..?" Chan whispers, his voice oddly muffled in the expanse as Minho creaks the glass panel shut as well as he couldn't without too much complaint from the old workings. "It's so cold—" The blonde begins to shift around, navigating himself through the room with an almost sixth sense. The more that he manoeuvred himself, the more the realization dawns on Minho that this room is far from empty. With no ventilation from the open window, the air that circulates the room is rank with a sterilized scent, and Minho's eyes widen. 

Whirling around, he glances back at Jisung, whose face had become pale as a sheet. "Knew it…" Minho mutters under his breath. His gaze drifts over to Changbin. "Hey, keep Jisung from doing anything stupid. Make sure he doesn't panic—"

"Guys!" Chan hisses. "Footsteps! Hide!"

Immediately, Minho swerves in the darkness, nearly knocking into a shelf, and ducks behind an opaque fixture, lodging himself between the shelf and the wall and peering out just in time to see Chan hefting himself over the edge of a low-hanging false ceiling. Changbin had tugged himself and Jisung behind the dense curtain, his hand clamped firmly over the brunette's mouth. 

Minho draws in a slow breath and closes his eyes as he hears the familiar hinges creaking, realizing that he had been dead wrong about this room being abandoned. It was far from so, and he didn't need the lights to switch on with a click to understand that. When he opens his eyes, the room is illuminated by a blindingly white light, revealing the glimmering steel fixtures, shelves and tables. The place had evidently been repurposed as some disproportionately large freezer room.

"Shipments L0031853 and H5582294 are due at the H-set Seoul in twelve hundred. Send out the nightingales with the merchandise. The new merchandise from earlier has to be brought in and labelled. We're sending out K738896 across the rim to the twenty-six in thirty and another shipment is due for the city of gold. Do not let payments be intercepted again. This is the last chance I'm giving you." The sound of pages flipping flutters through the expanse.

"Of course, sir." 

Minho's eyes narrow and he glances up at Chan who eyes the pair in the room with bitter, blank eyes. Minho nearly clucks his tongue, but resists the urge at the last moment and pinches his eyes shut to gather himself. 

It didn't take a genius to understand the purpose of this room that had once been his. The organs that had exceeded their usefulness floated in glass jars like some mad scientist's laboratory on the shelves. Minho would have retched, did he have any bile to cough up in his body. As the two figures, dressed appropriately in their lab coats, masks and gloves, pull a few crates from another shelf, he winces. This was no longer a bedroom, but a storeroom. Just from the transparent containers alone, Minho could already see hearts, lungs, kidneys, livers—even eyes, floating like grotesque masses of ice in their preservative with no purpose but to satiate the sadistic whims of whoever wanted to have such things in their possession.

He releases a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. He did not recognize that masked woman at his father's side—his supposed secretary, Minho could only assume. Something about her didn't rest well with him, and Minho could immediately say that he disliked her and her aura. Shielded by rectangular framed glasses and framed by the straight-edged bob cut were the lacklustre eyes of a person that had seen too much, had experienced too much, lived for too long, and yet, still refused to die. Closing his eyes, he wills himself to calm down as the jargon passes brusquely between the pair before more people, trussed in similar attire, stride into the room and carry out crates of functioning organs. He doesn't dare breathe lest it jeopardize his position or that of anyone else.

Eyes shifting up to the false ceiling, he barely catches sight of the tufts of Chan's curly hair peering over the edge. Fortunately, They hadn't had the foresight to inspect such an obvious yet inconspicuous place, so currently Chan had the advantage as long as his magazines were loaded. Changbin on the other hand seemed to be having the most struggle out of all of them, coping with Jisung’s panicky state while trying not to show his own horror on his face. The pair were currently the most vulnerable of them all, placed in the most inopportune hiding spot. 

Perhaps it had been a mistake telling Changbin to be the one to look out for Jisung, since the man was perhaps the only one who had little to no experience of the terrors of the underworld aside from Felix and, albeit to a lesser extent, Seungmin. Minho frowns and curses his own lack of foresight. Perhaps he had been concerned for Jisung, but that was no excuse for not looking out for Changbin as well. He could only hope that the pair would be discovered.

It seems like an eternity had passed with Minho almost feeling the warmth of stress pulsating through his body as the workers draw closer and closer to Changbin and Jisung, never seeming to realize their presence and yet never straying far enough for Minho to confirm that fact. When the lights are once more switched into abrupt darkness and the heavy door creaks oppressively as finally, they are left alone. 

Eyes finally accustoming to the area around them, Minho pads out of his hiding place, moving over to the curtain and gripping Changbin and Jisung's wrists firmly. He guides them out with a little effort, as the pair were clearly worried that there were unwanted eyes watching them. If Minho could be completely honest with himself, there probably were. He glances up as Chan drops down from the false ceiling to land on the linoleum floor with a dull thump. Drawing in a slow breath, he steals a glance around them. "Don't touch anything in here," he whispers calmly, gaze drifting from Changbin to Jisung. "We'll head out into the hallway. There won't be much to hide behind there, so keep your eyes out and never leave your back open."

"Minho hyung, what the hell, you can't expect us to just move on after seeing _that_ ," Changbin stammers, and Minho catches sight of the blood that beaded on the man's lip from where he had been worrying nervously at his spiderbites. "Give us a moment—" 

The moment the words escape Changbin's lips, Jisung crouches down on the floor, head bowed and hands shielding the back of his neck as he contorts himself into as small a position as he can. Minho can almost feel the brunette's rapid heartbeat thudding painfully hard against Jisung's chest. He sighs and glances back at Chan, whose hand remains trained on his torso as a precaution. The blonde closes his eyes. "I have the location of Jeongin's room," he murmurs. "Its upstairs and heavily guarded."

Changbin's brow creases. "How'd you figure that out?" He asks tersely.

"Questions later," Chan insists, an undercurrent of urgency running through his whisper. "Unless Minho has other secret passageways, there's no chance that we can get into Jeongin's room…"

"Who do you take me for?" Minho huffs, cracking his wrists and then his neck. “I hope you’re all feeling flexible, because I know a surefire way to get into any bedroom in this building.” He shoots a warning glance at Changbin, who just seemed about to pop up with some kind of smart, unhelpful remark. “Yeah, it’s creepy, but this is also my old house and I’m dead. What’s your point, smartass?”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Changbin yelps indignantly. “Don’t just assume the worst of me automatically!”

Minho snorts. “I’ll assume whatever I want of you, hon.”

“Right…” Chan interjects, moving over to Jisung and rubbing his back gently, because if anything, this room made him want to curl up in a fetal position in the corner and maybe cry. Probably not for the same reasons as why Jisung seemed to be on the verge of a silent breakdown, but equally as valid. Not that he had that choice at the moment—they needed to move as soon as possible and that meant ensuring that everyone was ready to move as soon as possible. He steals a glance at Minho before returning his attention to Jisung. "So what's your plan?"

"It won't take long before they notice us on surveillance—this place is loaded with cameras. We've been so unstealthy, I’m honestly surprised they haven't realized and jumped us yet. So the key is to move fast." He looks them over. "Chan and Changbin, you guys are more built than Jisung and I, so it might be a bit more of a squeeze for you—"

"Squeeze?" Changbin echoes. "...I don't think I like where this is going.."

* * *

“I was right. I didn’t like where this was going,” Changbin groans, hefting himself up by the forearms in the cramped space with not so much as a sliver of light to guide his way as he attempts to ignore that burning feeling of gravity dragging him downwards in the most definitely tight, cylindrical chute.

It was Minho who had offered to take on the arduous task first and now scrambled upwards ahead of Changbin, since he was relatively impervious to pain and could deal with cramped areas well enough as well as see decently in dark. However, the nearly vertical structure of the chute made it difficult, even for him and his confidence in his athleticism. It took him longer than he would have wished to finally reach the top and push open the chute door with a huff, tumbling onto the tiled floor and half-rolling onto a soft rug.

Wasting no time, he scrambles to his feet and stumbles around for a bit until he hits the wall with a thud. Groping the flat surface, he locates the switch and flips it, illuminating the area in a warm light. An echoing grumble from the laundry chute rises with the advent of the light. “Ow! That’s really bright, damn it!” 

“Well now you can see, Binnie,” Minho drawls, peering into the chute and smirking at the shorter man, who only glares up at him. “Come on,” he croons amusedly, allowing himself a moment’s playfulness despite himself. “Up you come, we’re almost there.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” Changbin huffs, fingers grabbing hold of the edge of the chute as he pulls himself out and practically pops out of the rectangular mouth. He flops onto the bathroom tiles with a groan. “I’ll make a note that I hate tight spaces.” 

Patting his head, Minho peers down the chute again. “Chan? Jisung?”

A slight chuckle echoes through the tube and although Minho can’t see him, he recognizes Chan’s voice. “Might wanna watch out, guys. Squirrel coming through.” 

And at the warning, Changbin immediately jumps back. Minho eyes him with confusion apparent in his eyes, until he hears the screeching sounds of complaining metal as something scrambles upwards. He’s too slow to move away as Jisung hurtles out of the laundry chute and tumbles down on top of him, knocking him onto his back on the floor. The younger man stares blankly down at him while he meets Jisung’s round eyes, stunned at the speed with which the younger had managed to scale the smooth-walled structure.

By the time Chan’s head pops out from the chute, Minho somehow manages to sit up, Jisung naturally sliding onto his lap with the movement. He glances back at the blonde with a glimmer of sheer and utter betrayal in his eyes. “Why did none of you warn me that he’s _actually_ a squirrel?” he mutters, peeved. Feeling a weight on his head, he glances up to find Jisung smirking down at him, a hand resting on his head. It suddenly occurs to Minho how confident the brunette seems, a far cry from his panicked state back in Minho’s repurposed bedroom. 

“He’s a squirmy thing,” Changbin supplies unhelpfully, finger raised as though he was attempting to prove a point. “Chan hyung _did_ warn you.” 

Minho doesn’t know what the reason is for the sudden emergence from cowardice, but the sensation of solidarity he receives from feeling their resolve strengthens him to the hollow core. Perhaps it was the light, or the lack of intrusive presences, or the fact that not even his parents would be sinister enough to plant surveillance in the bathrooms that relaxed Minho. And perhaps, with the tension brought by their entire predicament, it was precisely what he needed. 

He’s snapped back to the present when Jisung’s forehead meets his sharply, knocking him backwards and sending his vision out of focus. He grimaces and stares at Jisung, who meets his gaze steadily. “Come on, Minho. Let’s hurry up and get Jeongin and Hyunjin.” 

The younger scrambles to his feet and holds his hand outstretched for Minho to take. After a moment of astonishment, Minho grabs onto Jisung’s hand and hides a smile behind a businesslike expression as Jisung pulls him up with no reluctance or hesitation. He relocates his centre of gravity and bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. His gaze shifts from one to the other and he nods. “Let’s go.”

Striding over the soft bathroom rug, he reaches out briskly, pale fingers latching around the brass handle. Twisting it, he pushes the door open and peers out into the dark room with bated breath. Behind him, he can feel the other three following him, none of them daring to speak a word. In the few terse moments where all they could register was the agonizing silence, Minho pads forward slowly, his narrowed gaze scanning the dark bedroom. They couldn’t risk turning on the lights—it would give them away immediately, even if they were bound to be discovered anyway. 

A gasp elicits from Chan’s throat and he runs past Minho, bulling him away and hurrying to the bedside without a second thought in his haste. Catching sight of what had stolen the blonde’s attention, Minho’s eyes widen comically almost and he rushes towards the bed centred in the room. “Jeongin!” 

Jisung freezes mid-step as he hears a pained groan come from the bed, and it comes to his attention that it’s where Jeongin is, and he doesn’t seem to be faring well at all. Exchanging a look with Changbin, he hurries forward to the large bed hand resting on the soft comforter as he leans over Jeongin’s frame only for his eyes to widen in shock. 

“Chan, give me a knife,” Minho mutters, and Jisung can only blink owlishly as the blonde pulls from beneath his shirt a tactical knife, silver edge gleaming in the dim moonlight that shone from outside the grand window. It comes to Jisung’s attention that using the window this time around would be a foolish idea because they are currently a good dozen metres' height from the ground and they had no rope, save that that currently pinioned Jeongin’s limbs to his body on the bed. 

He cracks his knuckles nervously as Minho slips the knife beneath the ropes with too much of a practiced ease and tugs it up sharply, the blade keen enough to sever the ropes. When his hands are freed, Jeongin shifts to hug them close to his chest, rubbing against the chafed, rouge skin. He stares up at Chan, eyes unfocussed and glassy.

Chan takes Jeongin’s head in his hands, flinching visibly at the rope tied taut around his head, digging into the skin around his mouth painfully from where it had forced his jaw open. He shudders and meets the youngest’s eyes. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “We've got you. We’ll get you out.” 

The ropes around Jeongin’s mouth falls away as Minho brandishes the knife with a dark glimmer in his eyes. Immediately, Jeongin scrambles to throw his arms around Chan and weep into his neck, legs pale and drawn behind him, and skin marked harshly by red serpents that coiled around his limbs from the vicious manner in which the ropes were tied. Jisung's blood runs cold at the sight. Jeongin would never plainly cry—their youngest was hopelessly stubborn and despised showing weakness in front of them. For Jeongin to react so turbulently meant that something must have occurred: something that drove Jeongin into sheer, unadulterated terror.

The electrifying sensation of anger tears its way through Minho’s frame as he watches, and his knuckles blanch with his grip on the combat knife. He feels something against his arm and he tenses, eyes flying back to meet Jisung’s. The brunette’s eyes are distant and haunted as he stares at Jeongin, but his touch is firm and unyielding. When Jisung begins to pry his fingers off the knife, however, he holds it out of the brunette’s grip and instead curls his fingers around Jisung’s hand warningly. 

Chan rubs comforting circles onto Jeongin’s back, holding him tight. Seeing the younger so terrified made some unintelligible guilt crawl down his spine and spread over his skin, tearing through him and jutting accusatory fingers. Jeongin’s voice is cracked and hoarse and elicits from his throat as though it were struggling through a narrow tunnel of coarsest sandpaper. 

“Hyung—they… Hyunjin—” 

Changbin tenses at the mention of the man’s name and his lips part, only to press together into a thin line once more when Jeongin buries his face in Chan’s neck as though it was his only source of comfort. In this situation, surrounded by an area that was no longer home to him, perhaps it was. Changbin frowns and crouches down, hand settling flat on the luxury carpeting and angrily tearing out a few strands in his clenched fist.

Moving away, Chan grips Jeongin’s shoulders gently and meets his glazed eyes. “What about Hyunjin?” he presses, keeping his tone as even as he could. “What did they do to him?”

“I don’t—" Jeongin's voice cracks painfully and he winces. "I don't know—they were keeping him in...a lab. They must have seen me with him— I don't even know if he's…" Jeongin drifts off, his voice catching in his throat. 

Chan sits him down on the bed. "Changbin, could you grab a glass of water from the bathroom? Thanks." He meets Jeongin's eyes. "Breathe, Jeonginnie. Try to calm down." He holds the youngest's hands and guides his breathing before peering over at Minho. "How much time do we have on us?" He asks, voice steady.

Minho only frowns. "You're lucky if you even have five minutes, Chan. There's surveillance in the room and guards outside. If they haven't seen us already, they've definitely heard us."

Chan's eyes close at the newfound information, and for a few moments he's both still and silent, as though steeling himself. He sighs and shakes his head, glancing over at the bathroom as Changbin emerges with a glass of water. Chan accepts it and hands it to Jeongin before reaching for a section of his holster and pulling from it a blister package. He offers it to the youngest with a faint smile. "I managed to grab your meds before we headed over," he tells him. "Take one now and I'll give you your schedule later."

Shakily, Jeongin accepts the water and the medication, swallowing it back and downing the water.

Minho watches silently, his fingers still twined tightly with Jisung's although the younger seemed to have lost his will to get his hands on the knife. His gaze darts over to the window and he frowns. There was no chance they could escape through the window without falling to their deaths or at least breaking something. Maybe multiple things. The chute was an option, but not a safe enough one. If Jeongin hurt himself on the way down, it would slow their pace dangerously. And the door was perhaps the most suicidal way to go. They'd be shot on the spot if they were lucky. And Minho would be damned if they went past the door to begin with.

The sound of a lock clicking snaps his mind blank and his head whirls to face the cedar door of the room. Chan's hands are already firm on his brandished handgun, muscles flexing beneath his black shirt as a tick of unease clenches his jaw. Minho releases Jisung's hand and pushes the man behind himself as he hurries to Chan's side, dropping his centre of gravity and holding the combat knife at the ready.

Time seems to freeze as the door remains still for those few excruciating moments, and Minho swears he can feel Chan's pulse beneath his skin with how close they were to each other, striving to shield the three behind them. 

"What is the meaning of all this?"

Minho tenses, his vision blanking at the familiar voice, and as the man steps into the room and switches on the lights, he near lunges forward, only caught by both Changbin and Jisung each grabbing hold of one of his arms and hefting him back before he can either attack the man or faceplant on the ground. Their hands sink past his skin with the force they had to exert to hold him back.

"...Minho…?" The man's narrow eyes widen and Jeongin tenses as his father's hand shifts back, shutting the door behind himself and locking them in the room. Chan's finger balances warning on the trigger of his gun and he steps forward, past a seething Minho. The brunette's pupils were dilated and eyes empty as he writhes in Jisung and Changbin's grip, accidentally slashing Changbin's ribs in the process. The man hisses in pain and releases Minho. 

Jisung gasps at the development, but before Minho can slip out of his grasp as well, he kicks the back of Minho's calves, sending him sprawling on the carpeted floor. Immediately Jisung scrambles onto his back, kicking the knife out of his reach and pinning him to the floor. "Lee Jisung, get the _fuck_ off me!" Minho screeches, and the blood drains from Jeongin's face as his eyes dart around the scene in attempts to process everything that was happening far too fast.

Almost as though caught in a daze, the target of Minho's rage takes yet another step forward, incredulity filling his gaze. "Minho..? 

Minho stares up at him haggardly from the floor, lips curling into a grimace. "Take one more step and I'll drag you with me to hell, _father_ ," he hisses, heaving himself up onto his forearms only to collapse again under Jisung's persistent weight.

"I...I don't understand—Minho, you're dead." The words are spoken with a slight hesitance, almost meekly, catching Minho off guard. Chan remains firm, muzzle of his firearm trained carefully on the man. It would be a mistake to shoot him when he didn't seem to be threatening them, and the servants waiting outside the room were likely armed. The scent of blood was creeping into his consciousness like cockroaches and the effort that it took to remain calm in this situation was exhausting, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down around this man.

Minho, gathering himself after the unexpected response, glares up at the taller man. "Yes, yes I am, _father_ , you made sure of that," he spits. "And that wasn't enough, was it? You had to destroy my little brother's body too." He scowls. "Do I dare bring up your crime lord status too?" He shifts under Jisung, only for the younger man to pin him down to the floor with shaking hands. Minho's eyes widen and his form undulated slightly as a wave of something that might have been coldness washes over him, clearing his head.

"I did what?" This time the man's voice leaves his throat stunned and detached. 

"Jisung, get off me," Minho mutters, shifting his hand to rest over Jisung's trembling one. It didn't take a genius to understand that the man was terrified. And Changbin… Minho glances back to find the younger man pressing his shirt to his torso to staunch the bleeding of the shallow cut—the one that Minho had caused. He flinches and averts his eyes before Changbin can catch his gaze. "I promise I won't try anything— just let me get up," he murmurs.

After a few moments of hesitation, Jisung reluctantly climbs off his back and backs towards Changbin to see if he was all right and distract himself from the fact that the same Mr. Yang that was responsible for his kidnapping and numerous other crimes was standing _right there_. His hands shake noticeably, even as he grabs Jeongin's glass of water to help Changbin wash the cut. Changbin hisses out a thanks, peripheral vision trained on the tall man that resembled Jeongin with justified wariness.

Minho's gaze rakes over the man as he temporarily pushes away his guilt to judge their situation. He clucks his tongue and grabs the abandoned knife from the floor. Pushing past Chan, he grabs his father by the collar of his shirt. "Fall back, Chan. Make sure Jeongin's okay," he states, voice brooking no argument. Raising the knife to the man's neck, he presses the flat of the blade against his skin. "I don't want your excuses," he grits. "I'm done with your lies."

"Minho—" Chan seems about to interfere, but thinks better of it and draws back to speak to Jeongin, who appeared to be frozen in shock. Chan himself didn't look too well for the wear, skin blanched and paler than usual, gaze slightly unfocused.

Mr. Yang's hands shift to cup Minho's face and Minho flinches at the touch, but refuses to back down. They had the upper edge now, but not for long. If that door opened, they may as well be dead meat...or red merchandise. "Minho—it's really you!"

"I thought we already came to that conclusion," Minho drawls icily, unamused. Something about this entire charade rubbed him the wrong way, a certain tension that tightened his limbs as though his body almost felt disappointment that the man made no attempts to fight his blatant assault. There seemed to be no desire to fight thrumming under his skin, and Minho was familiar with discerning it. Only it wasn't there. Past the astonishment in his father's eyes, there seemed to be a current of resignation that pulsated softly within the olive pools, accentuated by the hints of wrinkles on his forehead and tired spots under his eyes. 

"What are you doing here—how are you here? I was convinced you were dead—"

"I already told you I am, father. I'm dead," he murmurs, his head level and frigid. "And I'm going to take you with me."

"No—!"

Minho tenses, attention torn away from the man before him and drawn to the shrill voice from behind him, as he turns just enough to see Jeongin lunge off the bed, arms reaching desperately out for him, only to crumple onto the floor.

"Jeongin!" Chan immediately drops to his side to help him stand on shaky legs. 

"Hyung—what are you doing?!" Jeongin gasps, reaching out again with a skinny hand, fingers grasping at air as Chan holds him rooted to the spot. 

"Jeongin, this man ruined your life," Minho hisses. "He's the reason why you're like this—he's the reason why you're ill and incapacitated—why are you defending him?"

Jeongin wrenches himself out of Chan's grasp and stumbles forward. "I thought I could hate him, hyung, I really did… I know how awful he is, I saw the proof myself! But—I don't care how horrible he is! I don't care what he's done, hyung, he's my dad—he's your dad! You can't…" Jeongin's knees buckle once more and he crumples to his knees on the carpet, reaching out helplessly to grip Minho's leg. "Hyung—please don't kill dad…"

"You're going to let him walk around and keep killing other people then?!"

The hoarsely screeched words don't elicit from Minho's lips, but from Jisung's as he rises from his spot beside Changbin, eyes wide and bloodshot, glossy with unshed tears. Minho turns to stare at the younger, shocked at the sudden outburst. Jisung strides forward, pointing an accusatory finger towards Mr. Yang. "You're going to let him murder people for money?! You're going to let him take children from their parents? You're going to let a criminal walk away unpunished?!" He turns his flaming gaze onto Jeongin, piercing holes into his skull. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Yang Jeongin?!"

"Jisung—" Changbin hurries to Jeongin's side, helping the younger off of the floor and guiding him back to the bed to sit down. 

"Shut up, Changbin! You weren't the one that was kidnapped! You weren't the one that was locked in a lab and drugged! You weren't the one who watched children your age being slaughtered in cold blood!" Jisung screams. "You weren't the one who saw the person you love ripped open while he was still alive! How could you hope to understand?!" He breaks off, panting haggardly like a cornered animal, eyes wide and blank.

"I…" Jeongin turns to stare at his father, who had not spoken a word in response to either the defence or the railing accusations. Minho has long since lowered the knife with a furrowed brow. He turns to eye the man whom he had renounced as his father for the past two decades, and only stares at his eyes in silence. A tight coiling in his chest loosens his fingers.

Finally he sighs and drops the knife altogether. "I'm not going to kill a man that won't try to defend himself," he states coolly. "I refuse to stoop down to your level."

The sound of a door unlocking tears their attention away from Mr. Yang, and the subsequent clicking of stilettos causes Jeongin to stiffen. 

"Well, that's unfortunate, isn't it?"

Sound itself distorts into white noise for Minho as everything seems to slow alarmingly. He barely blinks before something barrels into him, nearly knocking him off his balance, but his arms fly out to catch the weight. Eyes trembling and body barely registering what happened, Minho draws in a gasp and gazes down at the body slumped against his own. The unnerving sensation of wetness seeping through the shoulder his shirt causes him to shrink back, dropping his father's frame.

A vivid, crimson torrent spills over the man's neck and shoulders, and Minho maps it's origins to an impeccable bullet perforation right through his head. His lips part, but no sound elicits from them as he stares in disbelief from the still warm corpse at his feet to the woman at the door, wavy brown hair cascading immaculately over her shoulders, white dress neat with nary a wrinkle, and delicate, manicured fingers wrapped firmly around a handgun. She smiles sweetly as the servants that guarded the doors of the room step in and encircle them, firearms poised with muzzles aimed at them.

"Playtime is over, boys. Weapons on the floor and hands up."

Minho's eyes widen like saucers as he stares at the woman, who stares back at him as though she was being faced with an ancient hatred. "Mum...?"

"That's Mrs. Yang to you, Lee Minho," she refutes sharply. A stiff silence falls on them as a slow realization enters her gaze. "How are you alive—you're supposed to be dead, I made sure of it! Her eyes widen hysterically and her aim shifts to target Minho. "Why are you still here, you useless child?!" Her voice heightens into something painfully shrill.

Minho's arms slacken on the gun as he stares at her, gaze shaking. "Y-you did what..?"

Laughing mirthlessly, the woman who Jeongin flatly refused to refer to by the title of Mother sheaths the handgun in the holster fastened to her thigh and strides forward, her heels clacking ominously against the wood before muffling on the carpeting. Eyes guarded, Minho falters back, Chan moving carefully with him. Mrs. Yang's large eyes narrow malevolently. "I don't know what kind of damned dream I must be having to see you again, you serpent child, but this just means I can finish this job with my own hands since relying on other people clearly leaves me disappointed."

"I—" Minho's lips part in shock, his arms faltering once again. 

Chan's jaw clenches as the servants that were quite clearly trained with their weapons close in on them, and he shifts to shield the injured Changbin and Jisung, both of whom were closest to him. Heart pounding, he forces his eyes to remain open. One wrong movement and so much blood could be shed. So much blood… he swallows thickly, his vision doubling.

"That's right, Lee Minho. It was child's play to put your mother six feet under. And you just had to waltz right into my lap with your cute little rescue game. Gave me all the reason I needed to eliminate you," she sneers. "I don't know why I have to see your face again, but I'll enjoy disfiguring it myself this time." She smiles. "And don't even think of moving an inch or I'll put bullets through the skulls of your little acquaintances." She balances a disdainful heel on the rapidly cooling body of the man that Minho had once called 'father'. "If you think I'll hesitate, you're wrong."

"Mum, what are you doing?!" 

Changbin yelps when he realizes that Jeongin is no longer seated meekly on the bed, but pushing past Minho and Chan to stare down at the woman. Despite his clear physical impediment, he somehow still seemed intimidating, his features dead set like stone. 

"Please, please tell me that this is some kind of joke—"

The sickening sound of skin sharp against skin resounds through the room and Jeongin stares at the wall in shock, his hand naturally drifting to nurse the reddening area where she had slapped him ruthlessly. When his gaze darts back to her, stunned, she glares at him. "Joke? You've outlived your purpose. You were supposed to be a good, obedient vessel. Why did you have to act up like a rebellious little brat, hm? If I can't even have my own son obey me, then I don't need a son at all."

Jeongin stares at her, his lips slightly parted, but no words eliciting from them. His eyes follow her hand to the holster at her thigh and his heart pulses painfully against his ribcage as he realizes just what kind of situation they were in. It was a painful check, and not in their favour. Whatever moves they made were futile. 

They were surrounded. This was no check, this was checkmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened all in one chapter, but please bear with me while it gets worse <3  
> I'm honestly so sorry that this isn't better, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read it  
> Until the next chapter~


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, welcome to the next chapter  
> There will be violence in this chapter, but I hope the tags are enough warning by this point~  
> Please forgive the messiness of this chapter because it is going to be very messy ^^;  
> Thank you all kindly for supporting this story for so long, it really does mean so much <3  
> Without further ado, let's go!

Minho grits his teeth and shifts slightly in the darkness. The room reeked of antiseptics and the lights were glaring enough that beads of brightness could percolate through the dense weaving of cloth over his eyes, but he had no clue where they were considering how they were both blindfolded and tied up. He curses himself for the lack of foresight that could've allowed them to narrowly avoid the predicament they found themselves in. He frowns. "Hey, are you all okay?" He whispers, keeping his voice soft.

"I'm fine, but they took my guns and Changbin's phone…and I'm pretty sure they broke it, so that means Lix and Seungmin lost our signal," Chan mutters back. 

"And you make a pretty mean cut with a knife, Minho hyung," Changbin adds, a slight tautness to his voice that betrays the pain hidden beneath his dry tone. 

Minho winces. "Sorry—" He turns his head towards the direction of Changbin's voice. "We need to get out of here and get it treated."

"We're going to die—we're going to fucking die…!" 

Minho's lips purse into a thin line as he hears Jisung's heaving breaths, the man's tension rolling off him in waves and obviously affecting the others in the expanse that seemed to be rather cramped. Perhaps it was the blindfolds that made it seem cramped, or the panic that emanated from Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin, all of whom were just normal people but a few weeks prior. It wasn't right, Minho couldn't help but think, that they had to be ripped from their normal lives and thrust into this situation. 

"We're not going to die. We're getting out of here, and we're going to find Hyunjin," Chan states, his voice oddly calm despite the fact that this situation was anything but a reason to be calm.

"We don't even know if Hyunjin is still alive!" Jeongin gasps, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. His chest tightens and his head snaps around as though it would dissipate the blindfold around his eyes. 

Chan shifts to the wall until his back meets it and frowns. "No. Calm down and breathe. We are going to get out of here. I think seeing Minho must have scared your mother. She didn't properly check us for weapons."

"Hyung, are you trying to say that you had more than guns on you..?" Changbin pipes up, voice ridden with disbelief. "What else are you going to hide from us?"

"Never only carry one weapon," Chan mutters, twisting around in his bindings. "There should be a penknife in my shoes and a few combat knives on the inside of my holster...there's a machete tied to my calf and a pistol inside my pants by my hip, but I can't reach them…"

"Oh my god, hyung, how did you not sound like a bag of tin cans walking around with all that?! How do you even own all that?" Changbin yelps. 

"Questions later," Chan reminds, squirming around in his constraints in attempts to somehow loosen the knots that held his arms together behind his back, unfortunately easier said than done.

Minho frowns, tugging at his own restraints as an oppressive silence falls on them once again. A feeling of respect courses through him as he considers how calm Changbin is despite the man clearly being frightened. It couldn't help but pique some suspicion in Minho's mind, but the thought disappears as soon as it had come. Minho jerks his arm and his eyes widen as he feels considerable movement. 

Aside from Chan, who was still attempting to struggle out of his binds, and Jisung and Jeongin, both of whom couldn't articulate for the panic that they were feeling, there was a stifling quietness. He frowns and wrenches his hand through the tight ropes, feeling a discomfiting pull on his skin. His lips part in realization and he jerks his left arm completely out of the bindings. The ropes fall to the ground, and Minho wastes little time in removing the blindfold from his eyes. For the first time, Minho finds himself grateful for his tenuous physicality which allowed him to slip through the ropes. 

The sight that meets his eyes is both familiar and pitiful, and Minho's eyes widen to see the familiar glass panel doors, cramped room, white walls: they were in the laboratory, and blanketing the reek of sterilization is the cloying stench of death. His eyes widen. Immediately he whips around to eye the others. Chan had somehow located the foot of the bed and was currently attempting to saw into his ropes, which would have been more effective if the leg wasn't a steel pipe with no edge. Changbin was seated in silence, spiderbites pulled between his teeth and blood most certainly flowing to the surface of his lips. The blood from the slash-wound that Minho had given him plasters his shirt to his body, and Minho winces, averting his eyes. Jeongin and Jisung seemed to be the worst off, the younger paralyzed and silent while the elder had sweat beading at his forehead, face drawn and pale, lips moving incoherently. Minho winces. Even if he couldn't see, Jisung's body would remember this horrible place. 

Immediately, almost instinctively, Minho shifts over to Jisung and grabs his blindfold, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to tug it away, only for an animalistic shriek to tear its way out of Jisung's throat. The younger begins to flail, his foot making a harsh contact with Minho's calf. "Don't touch me—get away from me! Don't kill me—I don't want to die, I don't want to die, please—please…" Jisung breaks down into hysteric blubbering and Minho feels an odd ache in his chest as the younger's blindfold soaks with tears, his face pale as a sheet. "Please let me live…"

"What's going on?" Chan asks sharply, voice ridden with concern, only resulting in Jisung's pathetic sobs loudening. 

"Everyone, be quiet and stay calm," Minho calls out sharply. His eyes shift down to his slightly translucent hands and he glances back at Chan. "I'm out of the ropes. I'll grab one of your knives and cut us all out, all right? We'll be okay."

"No—no! Just leave me alone! Just don't touch me! Just leave me alone!" Jisung screams, his voice tearing itself out of his throat like an escaped circus animal. He writhes away from beside Jeongin and rams into the glass. 

Minho's eyes narrow and he grabs Chan's blindfold, pulling it down so that the blonde could see. Immediately, the blonde focusses his gaze on Minho before taking in their surroundings—a cramped cell-like space with a glass wall that looked out into a white corridor. Chan shivers at the ominous sight and uneasy silence. It was reminiscent of worse times, but then again, this was a pretty terrible time as well.

"There are cameras all over this place and who knows who could be looking in on us right now. We need to move fast before they get here," Minho interjects, stealing him from his train of thought. Reaching under Chan's shirt (and taking a moment to appreciate his abs because those were admittedly impressive) Minho grabs a combat knife from the holster and wastes no time in cutting Chan's ropes off his wrists. "Great. Now you take care of Jeongin and Changbin." Minho glances back at a shivering, weeping Jisung laying limply against the glass door. "...I'll take care of that."

Chan spares him an odd look before wincing again and immediately whipping around while grabbing the penknife from under the tongue of his sneakers. Minho's lips curve up slightly but he ignores it in favour of approaching Jisung again.

The younger stiffens like a board the moment he kneels down although he hadn't so much as touched him. Minho sighs. "Jisung. Lee Jisung. You're okay," he murmurs gently. "It's me. It's Minho. You're safe. Nothing will happen to you." It wasn't a lie regardless of what situation they were in. Even if it was a lie, Minho would ensure it himself that it wouldn't be.

"Minho..?" Jisung whispers. "They...to you…" Minho catches the sizeable tears that roll down Jisung's cheeks from under his blindfold. The urge to wipe them away comes over him in a sudden bout of concern, but he withholds himself. 

Upon the realization that Jisung's stressed mind had spiralled to the point of merging past and present, Minho's eyes narrow. He shifts closer, although Jisung only flinches away naturally. The brunette couldn't even see him with the blindfold on, but his frightened instincts were aggressively hyperaware. "Hey, Jisung…Sungie. It's okay. It's okay, I'm here. I promise." Slowly, he reaches up to loop his fingers under Jisung's blindfold and tug the fabric off of his face to reveal his glassy, bloodshot eyes.

Jisung stares at him blankly like a deer in headlights and Minho's eyes soften. Leaning close, he rests his lips gently over the brunette's temple before pulling back and slashing through the ropes that secured Jisung's wrists. "We're going to survive," he murmurs. "Trust me. Everyone will get out of here." He lifts the knife. "I'll make sure that they never get their hands on any of you again."

Jisung reaches up to grip the hand holding the combat knife. "Save yourself," he mutters. "Save yourself, they'll kill you, they'll cut you open, Minho, get away before they can get to you!"

Minho's heart sinks and his jaw tightens. Pulling his hand out of Jisung's grasp, he whirls around to face Chan, Changbin and Jeongin, who stare at him with wide, stunned eyes. He clucks his tongue and looks away. "Try to keep him from freaking out. He's stressed—he's becoming delusional. I'll try and figure out a way to get us out of here."

Hesitantly, Changbin approaches Jisung, only for the younger to stare up at him distrustfully. The man kneels down beside him and reaches out for him only for Jisung to snap at his hand like an animal, causing Changbin to flinch back. Changbin frowns and glances back at Chan. “I don’t think he’s in his right mind right now,” he mutters, his voice riddled with horror. “We should have never let him come along.” 

Chan’s brow creases and he rests his hand on the firearm by his hip. "We need to find some way to get out of here as soon as possible...I can't risk using bullets on the glass—if it ricochets, we're in big trouble."

Minho glances down at his hands again and then lifts his eyes to Chan. "I think...I might be on to something." He hurries over to the glass panel and thrusts his hand towards it. He frowns as some resistance meets the movement. He twists his hand slightly, a little intrigued himself by the sight of it passing through the thick screen of glass. He shifts closer to the keypad on the wall only to be stopped short mere centimetres away from it. Regardless of how hard he pushed, the resistance was solid. Which left him with the bizarre sight of his arm, partly rammed through a solid screen of glass.

"That is kind of creepy, but also really cool," Changbin hisses, somewhere behind him. 

"But also it doesn't work, so now we have to think of something else," Minho mutters.

Chan glances around the room, his brow creasing. "We don't have enough time to figure something out…" He murmurs. "They have us on surveillance."

"Yes, we know," Minho sighs.

"To be fair, I didn't, but I'm busy trying not to think about all the terrible outcomes of this," Changbin pipes up.

Minho glances back at him and rolls his wrist absently. "I would say something about how that isn't helping at all, but you know what…" Minho rests his hand flat on the glass door and peers down the spotless, white corridor. "Right now I think it's the only thing keeping us sane." Stealing a glimpse back at the shorter man, he offers him a smile. "You're all crazy."

"Aw, I love you too," Changbin drawls sarcastically, hand favouring his wounded side, and an amused snort evokes from Chan who hides a smile behind his penknife. 

Minho chuckles slightly, his eyes drifting over to Jisung and Jeongin, both of whom were still petrified, clinging to each other for some semblance of comfort. It was better than having them fall into a panicked hysteria, he supposes. He perks up slightly as the sounds of creaking doors and footsteps enter his perception, and he raised a finger to his lips. Chan, after a moment's hesitation, presses the penknife into Changbin's hand and retrieves another combat knife from his holster.

Minho shifts his position as he sees that woman clacking arrogantly down the corridor. In the moment he had pushed away his own fears for the sake of the others. In shock and panicked, neither Jeongin or Jisung were in any state to actively try and help formulate a plan of escape. Chan, being the only one with any kind of qualification to ensure their well-being would be amply distracted. And Changbin...well, Minho couldn't be more proud to know someone like him. 

Changbin was right. He wasn't alone in this. None of them were. It made the crashing revelation of his stepmother's true intentions just a little more bearable. His eyes drift over her innocent features, only weighed down by the age that her makeup couldn't hide, and Minho sees red. The moment she strides up to him and stares him down winningly, he reaches through the glass, fingers aimed purposefully for her neck.

"Don't try me, Lee Minho," she hisses, tactical knife stabbing through his insubstantial arm, again barely fazed. He tenses his fingers spasming slightly. There was no pain, nor was there any blood to be seen, but more than anything it was a stab to Minho's heart, a testament that she had never cared for him. And that very thought was enough to drive Minho into a grief-induced fit. 

His vision blurs, but it's a touch that brings him to his senses, a hand on his shoulder that pulls him back. His eyes vaguely meet Jisung's reflection in the glass and he tenses. The brunette was nowhere near emotionally or mentally stable—certainly in no state to be facing his captors. 

"Mrs. Yang—" Jisung rasps, his voice hoarse and his eyes wide. "It's you."

She scrutinizes him, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Minho shoots him a warning glance. "Jisung…"

"Jisung?" Mrs. Yang echoes cocking a delicate eyebrow. "We've had many Jisungs. But the name doesn't matter once you're dead," she holds her fingers to her mouth, concealing an unseemly giggle as she tugs the knife out of Minho's arm. Her eyes widen. "Oh, could it be?" She leans closer to the glass, staring Jisung in the eye. "Are you...Han Jisung?"

"Mother, that's enough!" Minho spits, pushing his arm between Jisung and the glass, knocking the brunette off balance and sending him sprawling on the floor. Jisung winces and Changbin rushes to help him to his feet again.

"Oh, no, no, no, my darling boy, I have plenty of things to talk about with you," she croons, her eyes still fixated on Jisung's wide, stunned ones. Her gaze falls into something frigid as she turns on Minho. "You useless child, you cost us hundreds of millions of won with that stunt of yours. I should have killed you with my own hands." Her gaze then shifts icily onto Jeongin. "It would've been worth the certain miscarriage if it meant you would've never been born."

The blood drains out of Jeongin's face at the words, and Minho's vision washes crimson as he lunges through the glass at her. She steps back, just out of his reach and smirks. "Maybe you're just a hallucination, Lee Minho." She sneers. "I'm not afraid of my own mind, why would I be afraid of you?"

"You take that the fuck back!" Minho growls. "Jeongin is your  _ son _ you bitch!"

"Hyung, no—" Jeongin whispers as Minho lunges for her again, his attempts comically futile as his arms fall just short of her through the glass. 

She waves him away nonchalantly. "Yes, yes, my  _ son _ ," she drawls mockingly. "Just like you were the son of  _ my  _ husband's wife," she spits the word 'wife' as though it were poison on her tongue, "or how Han Jisung is the son of some of my most loyal subordinates."

Jisung's eyes widen further, if at all possible, and he stumbles away from Changbin and to the glass once more, his breath fogging the transparent surface. "M-my parents?" He gasps, as though the air had been stolen from his body. "My parents are—"

"My subordinates? Why, yes, darling, yes they are," Mrs. Yang croons, her eyes crinkling. "If I'm not mistaken, they've been working with me for a while now...some twenty years." Her pinkened lips pull upwards delicately behind the glinting blade of her knife, which she sheaths in the breast of her cream coloured blazer. 

The strength leaves Jisung's legs for the umpteenth time. His parents were working for these monsters. His parents were working for these monsters. His parents were working for these monsters. His blood freezes in his veins, and he swears that Mrs. Yang is speaking, but all her words fly over his head as he stares blankly down at the linoleum floor, stunned into silence. 

"As a matter of fact, your dear mother is here to commemorate the day you ran right back into my arms, Han Jisung." She smiles. "A pity, really." She glances down the hallway and the sound of footsteps follow the single look until a woman, dressed in her white doctor's coat, approaches them, tucking a lock of black hair from her bob cut behind an ear and fixing the rectangular glasses on her nose. "To celebrate, I'll let her do the honours herself."

Minho's eyes narrow at the woman, her face no longer hidden by a surgical mask. Her straight nose and round eyes definitely belonged to Jisung—even if Minho wanted to deny it, he'd only be deluding himself. He glances down at Jisung, who stares up at the two women, body trembling with shock. "M-mum..?"

It was so minute that it would have easily been abandoned by the average observer, but Minho catches the glimmer of recognition in the woman's eyes. He draws back and helps Jisung to his feet, leading the brunette to the hard bed situated within the tight area. 

Naturally, Jisung squirms out of his grip and rushes to the window, hands pressing flat against the glass, horrified eyes fixated on the austere woman in the lab coat standing silently beside that monster. "Mum is that really you? Mum..?"

Minho's eyes narrow as Jisung's fingers curl in against the glass, scrabbling pitifully for purchase when there was none. Mrs. Yang eyes him disdainfully and then smiles, a sweet expression that made Minho's gut coil into inextricable knots. She approaches the glass, and touches her manicured fingers to where Jisung's face is positioned. "Isn't this touching?"

Heels clacking against the linoleum, she pads over to the wall and taps in the passcode on the keypad before tugging her handgun from the holster on her thigh. The moment the door slides back, the corridor swarms with scrub clad people, emerging from the steel doors of the operating rooms, faces obscured by surgical masks and firearms directed towards the small cell-like room.

"Make one move out of turn, and my subordinates will put so many holes in all of you that I could stretch you out and sell you as exotic netting," she hisses. 

Chan's eyes narrow as he tries to ignore his pulsating heartbeat, the ringing in his ears and the image that Mrs. Yang had so unkindly placed in his mind that made him want to retch for more than one reason. And it was the muzzle of her handgun that aimed at his head. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply in attempts to calm himself down. Jeongin was stock-stiff at his side and Changbin's hand, albeit gripping the combat knife tightly, was trembling. 

And the muzzles of multiple guns were most certainly directed at him. He winces and keeps himself still, lest a wrong movement result in him being thoroughly swiss-cheesified. He couldn't play off his old identity this time—but that was the least of his worries. What concerned him most was that the woman who bore a striking resemblance to Jisung was now directing a firearm of her own at his face.

Chan pales. There was no chance any of them would be able to escape this now. They were as good as dead. Woojin had no way of knowing where they were. Hyunjin might already be dead. Felix and Seungmin had no signal and couldn't follow them. 

A quick, almost whimsical swishing of the air accompanied by the sharp clacking of footsteps against linoleum are violently succeeded by a reverberating gunshot that seemed so unready that it may as well have been completely unintentional. Jisung’s lips part and he gasps, his eyes widening as he falters back.

Chan’s eyes widen as blood splatters against the pristine walls and clean floor, the metallic stench of blood perfusing the air and crawling into his mouth, nose, eyes. His vision blanks momentarily as his hands lose their strength, the penknife in his hold falling onto the linoleum floor with a dull clatter. Blindly, he pushes forward, fingers groping for Jisung’s body.

Only his fingers do curl around Jisung’s shoulders and his vision clears to find the younger brunette still standing upright, eyes like saucers and lips parted, tremors running though his body, which, to Chan's relief, was unharmed. Jisung’s hand reaches to claw at Chan’s hand for some kind of purchase as he gawps at the scene, mouth opening and closing, no words able to leave his tightly knotted throat. 

When Chan’s tunnel vision fades, he takes in the situation at a glance, and immediately pulls Jisung back, shielding the younger away from the scene with heart thudding almost painfully in the confines of his ribcage. His vision doubles momentarily with the wave of nausea that decides to cascade over him at that moment and his hand shakes as he settles it on Jisung’s upper arm. He closes his eyes.

Changbin shuffles close to the pair, too stunned to care about anything at the moment. More had happened in these few hours than in his entire life, and he was certain that his brain was still denying the occurrence of the current events. But for now, he had to make sure that Chan and Jisung were both all right because that was a lot of blood and Changbin could only feel a vague sense of pride that Chan hadn’t passed out already.

He flinches as pressure falls on his injured side, and his eyes dart to Minho, whose focus is stolen by the need to shield Jeongin from the scene. 

“M-mum…?” Jisung stammers, pale arm reaching out past Chan to the woman crumpled on the floor. “Mum?”

Mrs. Yang shakes her head, a rueful glimmer in her doe eyes. “Too long, too late, Han,” she sighs, lowering the blood-drenched knife in her hand. The scarlet spills over her white dress and encrusts her hands, but her demeanour remains unchanged. 

At her feet, kneeling on the floor, Jisung’s mother stares up at her with pain-clouded eyes, garbling something incoherent, choked by her own blood as it pooled out of the slash on her neck and coloured the ground in red. She spasms and cries out something that sounded vaguely like Jisung’s name, her hand flying up in futile attempts to staunch the profuse bleeding. The handgun lay abandoned at her side, drenched in her own blood from the grievous wound. The bullet that had been fired in her shock from the unexpected assault had lodged itself in the back wall of the cell.

At that moment, Chan runs forward. He screeches as the sudden movement earns him a bullet to the leg and collapses onto the bloodstained ground beside the suffering woman. Mind half-clouded by pain and body burning with adrenaline, he tears off his shirt and wraps it firmly around her neck, pressing against the laceration. He raises a finger to his lips for her to be silent as he firmly secures the shirt, allowing it to soak up the blood. The exact severity of the injury he hadn’t determined; looking at her neck itself was almost too much to consciously bear. She coughs, crimson spewing from her lips and dripping down her chin, drenching her previously white lab coat.

Minho’s eyes widen as Chan rashly runs forward to help a woman that wasn’t even part of their cause. He curses, his feet moving of its own accord as one of the scrub-clad subordinates fires a bullet into Chan’s leg. However, the sight of Chan’s back causes Minho’s feet to freeze to the spot, his eyes widening and a gasp eliciting from his lips as the inked image of a snarling tiger meets his eyes, near jumping out of the blonde’s pale skin to mock him. 

“Traitor!” 

The cry evokes from one of the subordinates whom Minho didn’t even bother to spare a glance. Instinctively, he darts for Chan, contorting to shield both him and Jisung’s mother as much as his limited frame could, raising his arm in a defensive gesture as a gleaming flash distracts his peripheral gaze. He glares at the man who had leaped at them with a brandished switchblade, which was now halfway buried in his arm. His eyes narrow, and in a sudden bout of brute strength, he thrusts the man away from them. “You all are traitors to your own humanity. Don’t you dare call him a traitor!”

Minho glances back at Chan who seemed on the verge of fainting. Not only was the blonde faced with a rather copious amount of blood, but he was losing quite a lot too. In all his adrenaline rush, he was forgetting to treat his own wound. His gaze shifts back to Changbin, Jisung and Jeongin, all of whom did not look well at all, Jisung on the verge of a meltdown at the harsh and sudden recollection of things that should have been left hidden, Changbin from the shock and his injury, and Jeongin just hadn’t been too healthy to begin with.

Shifting, he nudges Chan with his foot, and when the blonde glances up at him for the briefest of moments, he jerks his neck back. Understanding dawning in his eyes, Chan hefts himself to his feet, stumbling slightly, and then hefting the fallen woman up in his arms, taking care for her injury. Under the gravity of his own wounded leg, he nearly collapses. Minho’s eyes widen as Mrs. Yang yanks her handgun out of its holster once more, both hands curling around the handle and fingers settling on the trigger.

“Chan!” 

The blonde barely glances back as he runs, despite his injury. In the small space, it didn’t take more than a few paces, but it may as well have been a hundred metres to reach the bed situated near the back end of the small cell. 

Even Chan, with all his speed, would not be faster than a bullet which was most certainly aimed for Mrs. Han’s head, and all the slower with a bullet buried in his leg. Minho’s eyes widen as the blonde upends the bed with a jerk of his shoulder, motioning for Changbin, Jisung and Jeongin to take shelter behind it. Every movement was precise and deliberate, for when the gunshot rings through the no longer pristine white expanse, Chan lowers Mrs. Han to the ground behind the bed, and then releases a hoarse cry as the bullet intended for her skull instead grazes his bare upper arm before burying itself in the steel bedframe, spraying the furniture with blood.

Changbin’s eyes widen and he reaches out to drag the blonde behind the bed as the next bullet fires, lodging in the frame. 

The third strikes Minho, and he’s knocked off his balance by the force of it, near falling onto the floor. He stares at Mrs. Yang, meeting her wide eyes that mirrored his own. And in that meagre reflection, he sees the clean hole in his temple from where she had shot him. A precise, deliberate shot with no hesitation.

Raising his hand, he touches the hole in his head that did not bleed, neither hurt him. It was strange, the sensation of having a foreign object embedded in a place where his brain should be. He breathes in shakily, and moves.

If anything, he was bound here for a reason, stuck to this plane of existence without understanding why. He had lived unnoticed, intangible for twenty years, the loneliness averted only by the fickle presence of the creatures that could see him. And now, now he was visible to the human eye, palpable to the touch. And even if it wouldn’t give him restitution, the least he could do was finish the job he should have done those twenty years ago. He was foolish to think that a woman who he barely knew anything about ever cared about him.

Minho grabs the wrist of the wide-eyed subordinate that had attacked Chan and heaves him forward, knocking him off his balance. Sending him sprawling on the floor, Minho wrenches his switchblade from his grip with the aid of a heel digging sharply into his shoulderblades. Standing firmly on the defeated man, Minho brandishes the weapon at the others in warning. They, who had not moved an inch, were well trained. Mrs. Yang had, after all, not ordered them to do anything.

“Fire.” 

Minho’s eyes widen as the word leaves her lips, and following the deafening roar of gunfire, hell rained down on him.

He stumbles off of the man beneath him, switchblade still held firmly in his grip, and body ridden with bullets. He grits his teeth and reaches for the messier shots, tearing the bullets out of his body and hurling them irately at his attackers. “You can’t hurt me,” he rasps past the metal lodged in his throat, his eyes wide and glinting with perhaps the slightest shade of madness.

He had sworn that he would do whatever he could to ensure their safety, and yet here they were, severely incapacitated either physically or mentally...or both. He was failing them.

“Minho! Your back!” 

Minho whirls around, knife brandished firmly in his hand and cuts down the man who had attempted to attack him from the back. He rams the hilt of the knife into the man’s temple as he falls from the slash and promptly kicks him away the moment he passes out. 

Eyes drifting past, Minho finds Jisung staring at him from his hiding place behind the bed—in inappropriate hindsight, Minho wonders how that thing could shield all five of them. The younger stares at him with such a determined stare that washed away all the trepidation and fear from before, and Minho feels a slight pull at the corner of his lips. He turns around to stare at Mrs. Yang.

“I’m so sorry Jeongin had to have a mother like you,” he sighs before rushing at her. She smiles, more of a sneer than a smile, and Minho raises his wounded arm to fend off a brutal kick that nearly sends him sliding. He lunges for her, knife in hand, and she parries his attack easily.

“I’m sorry I didn’t kill him when I had the chance,” she retorts, equally as candid, pulling her blood-drenched knife from the breast of her jacket and slashing him directly in the face. Too slow to dodge, Minho finds his sight temporarily compromised. He could only thank the gods of irony that he couldn’t feel pain. Ducking, he aims for her legs and catches one of them, sending a thin stream of blood rippling down her pale skin and knocking her off balance. She hisses and whirls away from him, slightly bent to accommodate for the injury.

He strides towards her, knife trained at her. When he catches movement from her subordinates, he turns to stare at them. “Shoot me as much as you want. You can’t harm me. I can harm you though. I can harm you perfectly fine.” His jaw tightens in a grim kind of satisfaction as he sees them back down.

“I can deal with this bastard child myself,” Mrs. Yang grits out, lifting herself upright. 

And Minho is caught off guard by the speed at which she moves, lunging at him with such little hesitation, that when he finds himself pinned to the wall of the cell-like room, he can barely react. He winces as he feels something lodge itself into his neck. 

He stares at his disfigured reflection in the eyes of that snake of a woman and reaches upwards his fingers curling around hers as she twists the knife embedded in him with a vicious wrench of her hand. He hisses, able to feel the discomfort of the movement, even if not the pain. His body felt exhausted although it had no real reason to, his skin glowing with a translucency that he suddenly wished wasn't there. His grip around Mrs. Yang's blood-encrusted hand tightens, but his fingers only sink past the layer of dried blood and skin. His eyes narrow as she breathes out an amused, condescending laugh. "You can't hurt me, why try?" He snarls.

“Well, for one, I can do this,” she hums, a mocking lilt to her voice as she raises a finger and jerks it towards herself. Minho’s eyes widen and he writhes against the knife and Mrs. Yang's maliciously strong grip that pinions him to the wall, exhaustion taking over his body but desperation burning in his empty veins. The remaining subordinates close in on the others within the cell, and Minho, with all his efforts, couldn’t stop them. Not unless he wanted to see if this body could survive decapitation.

He hears vague muttering from the bed, but for the life of him, could not decipher what words were being spoken. 

His eyes widen as Jisung's head pops out like a meerkat from behind the bed and then Changbin with him. "Are you trying to get yourselves killed?!" He screeches at them, his eyes widening. "Get down!"

"No can do, hyung," Changbin dismisses with an apologetic shrug, barely sparing him a glance. The man reaches down to help up Chan, supporting the blonde so that he wouldn't need to lean weight on his wounded leg. Jisung carefully helps up the injured woman, allegedly his biological mother, who barely seemed conscious, practically carrying her as she reaches into her lab coat for her handgun.

Chan's fingers curl firmly around the handle of his pistol and he fires off shots in rapid succession with little to no hesitation. In the small space, they perforated limbs easily, bullets lodging themselves in hands and legs, incapacitating their attackers with deadly precision. Veins on the blonde's arms protrude from beneath his skin from exertion, the graze wound dripping blood over his limb.

Jisung grounds his heels on the linoleum floor, eyes squinted and nearly shut as he attempts to withstand the excess recoil as the woman in his arms fires off into the melee with less reservation than Chan, choosing heads and chests over hands. Her cold gaze turns frigid as the floor stains with blood. 

However, the handgun finally slips out of her hand before the magazine has a chance to completely unload. Jisung's eyes widen as her head lolls against his chest, blood from her neck wound seeping into his shirt. 

"Jisung!"

The roar from Minho cuts Jisung back to the real world and he instinctively drops behind the bed, gasping as a bullet thuds against the wall just behind him. His jaw tightens and his heart hammers as he lays his mother down, attempting to staunch the bleeding. Her skin is dreadfully pale and her eyes are closed. His eyes widen as blood rushes in his ears, drowning out even the screaming gunshots.

"I'm out of ammo…" Chan curses under his breath, eyeing the corridor, where they seemed to just  _ keep coming _ . Changbin heaves him down and he falls to the floor with a pained yelp. When he glances up at the man, Changbin only shakes his head. 

"We're holding them off, hyung, you can't actually think we can beat them—"

"Mum…?" Jisung whispers beside them. "Mum— wake up...wake up!"

Chan flinches and turns to eye the brunette, leaning over the woman whom he had never condoned to be shooting any firearm. He scrambles over despite the pain that shoots from his leg through his spine and to his head. Reaching out, he searches her for a pulse, a heartbeat, a breath, anything. 

Footsteps enclose on them, and perhaps Minho was yelling something, perhaps Jeongin's trembling fingers had finally taken up the bloodied handgun which still had perhaps one or two bullets remaining, perhaps Mrs. Han's eyes opened ever so slightly, but in the moment, the thick darkness of despair had sunk so deeply into the recesses of their minds that their senses dulled to all these things.

Jeongin, who had been sitting terrified and his chest in terrible pain during the entire ordeal, could not quite believe that in his hands there sat a weapon capable of taking the lives of other human beings. The thought in itself petrified him. But Changbin was injured, and so was Chan, who had worked so hard despite the inopportune situation and all the blood. Even Jisung had fought past his turmoil to contribute and Minho...Minho was currently there, stuck under his own mother's hand.

It left a bitter taste in Jeongin's mouth that permeates past all the terror and adrenaline. The woman that had raised him saw him as nothing more than a tool—a human resource. Expendable, and even unnecessary. His eyes blur with the unshed tears of betrayal, but he quickly blinks them away. Raising his hands, he closes an eye and takes aim.

The recoil from the shot throws him off his balance, near sending him sprawling, but it's enough to shock Chan, Changbin and Jisung to stare up at him. His gaze cools as the poorly aimed bullet buries itself in Mrs. Yang's shoulder, and the woman screeches in agony.

Minho, taking the unexpected opportunity, wrenches the knife out of his neck and runs for Jeongin, kicking the bed away from them and sending the heavy frame flying into a few subordinates. Minho smiles a lopsided, bullet-scarred smile at Jeongin and immediately grabs a few fallen weapons, going back to back with the younger as they both stand shielding the others.

"Thanks, little brother," he whispers affectionately, biting down on the hilt of the knife that he had been stabbed with to free his hands which were wrapped around the handle of a stray handgun he had borrowed from one of the fallen. 

"Sorry for doubting you, hyung," Jeongin whispers back, his sharp eyes gleaming with a saddened kind of determination.

"When we get out of this, hyung will treat you. We can go to a convenience store together," Minho promises, words mumbled by the knife in his mouth as he fires off round after round, caring little for Mrs. Yang. She was useless without her arm and leg. 

Jeongin chokes out a sob, overcome with too many emotions than should ever come upon a person at one time. He holds the knife Minho presses into his hands butt out, using it to strike at whoever came too close on his end. He didn't have much strength in his body, but he had desperation, and sometimes desperation was all you needed. "I'll take you up on that, hyung."

It seemed that much of the ammunition had been wasted on Minho, and firearms abandoned for blades. It would have almost been relieving, did not the thunderous sound of footsteps come echoing through the hallway. Minho's heart sinks as he sees glints of victory shines in the eyes of the ones attacking them.

He tosses down his last handgun and takes the knife out of his mouth. Perhaps the notion of saving everyone was impossible, but if they were going to die, Minho would make sure they took a few people down with them.

Eventually, the footsteps shift into vest-clad people, firearms brandished and pointed not at them, but at their attackers.

"This is the police! Put your weapons down and your hands up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I sincerely apologize for the messiness   
> It seemed a little too convenient that the police would show up just in time, but there is an explanation for that! It just won't be given right now ;)  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read and I hope you enjoyed!  
> Until next time <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, welcome to this next chapter~  
> Thank you all for the kind support (as always!)  
> Not much to be said here, so lets get into it!

Hyunjin swears he had actually fainted for a moment back there, so when he finds himself still very much conscious and still running around the building, doubtless leaving a very unattractive trail of blood in his wake, he whines. It took too much effort to make any louder noises, and even the small sound sent blinding flashes of pain clouding his vision in white. 

He had somehow managed to escape. By some miracle he hadn't been caught by the woman that had shot him.

But now that meant he had to run around trying to locate a specific place with no knowledge of this estate's layout—he was certain that this was the Yang Estate, especially after seeing Jeongin—and his back hurt. Really hurt. Bullet to the back hurt, although in hindsight, that was exactly what it was The pain made him want to just lay down somewhere and pass out peacefully, but there was no time for that.

Hyunjin removes his shirt and ties it firmly around the area of his torso to stop the wound from bleeding too profusely. Agitating it with all this movement was no good, but having Jeongin be under such a dangerous risk was a big no-no. 

The place seemed oddly empty, as though everyone within it had flocked to one part of the area, although to be fair, from what he could see it was nighttime, and for all he knew, they were all asleep. Hyunjin slows down when the faded adrenaline catches up with him, leaving him panting for breath from exertion, virtually on his last legs. Logically speaking, he should find a phone as soon as possible and call for an ambulance, but currently that was not an option, predominantly because there was no phone in sight.

He leans against the wall tiredly, trudging through the empty corridors and smearing the area with the evidence of his injury, silently praying that there was no one who wanted his kidneys wandering the halls because if he had to face anyone, he doubted he had the energy and strength to fend for himself.

Not that he wouldn’t try of course. It wasn't as though he was eager to die. He rather liked this whole living thing. 

For how long he paces through the hallways, opening and closing doors when he finds nothing of interest to him, he doesn’t know (the place had an eerie absence of clocks). He had stopped bleeding out, but the pain was now more prominent than ever, burning over his skin and creeping on his consciousness. It took effort to keep his vision focussed in itself.

Hyunjin tenses when he hears footsteps behind himself and breaks into a run once more, pain washed over by flight instinct. The footsteps behind him quicken as well, echoing ominously in the quiet corridors, and before he knows it, he's overtaken, a hand pulling his arms behind him and another covering his mouth.

Instinctively, he sinks his teeth down into fabric and his captor releases him with a hiss. Whirling around, he slams his leg into the figures side, causing him to double over. Hyunjin swears he had heard the satisfying crack of broken bones and he can't quite resist the pull at his lips to smile as he turns to run once more. 

"Wait— Hwang Hyunjin!"

The man's voice is tight with pain, and Hyunjin, despite his better judgement, turns around to eye him as he pulls himself to his feet, gripping his side. Catching sight of his face, Hyunjin's eyes widen. His jaw tightens and he pads back to the man. "You look like someone I know," Hyunjin hums, tilting his head and pushing the pain out of his voice. 

And indeed, the man did bear an uncanny resemblance to a certain squirrel-cheeked artist that Hyunjin both loved and hated in the same breath, but mostly loved. In fact, this man had the same slightly puffed cheeks and short figure that Jisung did, although the servant's uniform was detracting Hyunjin from that fact by arousing his instinct to run away from this man before he got shot in the head or something.

The man stares at him with an impressive silence for someone who likely had fractured ribs and bitemarks on his hand if the blood that seeped through his gloves said anything. Finally, the man limps past him and motions for him to follow. “Come with me. You’re friends with Jisung, aren’t you?”

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow. “...and what if I am?” he smiles. “Sir, I’ll be obligated to break a few more of your bones if you’re going to go after him.” Perhaps not the wisest thing to say when one had a bullet embedded in one’s back, but Hyunjin would be lying if he claimed not to be impulsive ~~a lot of the~~ some of the time. Besides, at this point they were more or less evenly matched, wound for wound.

To his surprise, the man only chuckles at his words, the sound abruptly ending with a wince. “I see he’s found himself protective friends.” 

“As great as enigmatic speech is, I’d appreciate it a lot more if you weren’t talking like a sphinx, sir,” Hyunjin drawls, settling on following the man after a moment’s hesitation because although it was a dumb decision to listen to the enemy, this was his safest bet, and he had yet to be stabbed or shot. Besides—the man’s physique was rather similar to Jisung’s, if not a little more fleshed out, and Hyunjin knows he can take down the brunette any day.

“I hate riddles as much as the next person, but I’m afraid we’re in no position or situation to be talking plainly, Hwang Hyunjin,” the man replies almost cordially. And Hyunjin, as loath as he was to agree with a stranger, agreed. 

The man approaches a room that would be as any other room, save the keypad that was situated beneath the door. The man presses a code into it and then grabs the handle to open the door. Hyunjin watches silently as the sight behind the door meets his widening eyes. His lips naturally lift into an eager smile before he can stop them, and he pushes past the man darting into the room and looking around with sparkles in his gaze. In all his excitement, the excruciating pain his back became an afterthought, something barely noticeable.

The room was vacant, but covered in monitors, sleek models with crisp images of every room in the estate. A gasp leaves Hyunjin’s lips and he whirls around to face the man who had shut the door behind them. “The control and surveillance room! I was looking for this place!”

“I know,” the man responds with a vaguely amused smile on his lips. “I’ve been told you’re quite the technology wizard.” 

Hyunjin pauses and glances back at the man, his excitement fading rapidly in the face of reality. His eyes narrow with suspicion before crinkling as he grimaces, a fresh wave of pain from his exertion cascading over his body. He nearly doubles over, but catches himself on the edge of the counter. He holds himself upright with a frown. “Why did you bring me here?” He was now locked in a room with this man. Now there was nowhere to escape if he was attacked.

“I’m just as urgent as you are, Hyunjin, so I’ll make this brief. You may call me Mr. Han. And I’m here to help you get your friends out.” His eyes narrow. “It’s not my job to handle the merchandise, so I can’t say I recognize you. I was told to watch out for a person with a wounded shoulder.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “Mr. Han…? So you’re—”

“Questions can be saved for later, Hyunjin. Right now, I’m sure you have things that you need to do.” 

That logic was irrefutable, and Hyunjin doesn’t bother arguing. Questions could indeed wait. He pushes himself into the chair at the counter and grabs the mouse, waving around for the cursor on the immediate screen before him. He pulls open one of the drawers and grabs a random paper, reading over its contents. It doesn’t take him long to figure out how this system was configurated. 

He frowns and peers back at Mr. Han’s reflection from the screen of one of the monitors as it flickers and turns black. “Mr. Han, do you have your phone on you? I need to borrow it.”

He’s handed the device with no reservation, and his incredulity at the fact that the man was genuinely keen on helping them fades just a little more. Pulling a cord from the computer, he plugs in the device and easily bypasses its security measures. One hand handling the phone and the other punching at the keyboard, he breathes out in relief as he manages to project a map onto the blacked out screen.

Gaze trailing over the map, he lays a grid over it, perking up slightly as he picks up a signal. “So they’re at Changbin hyung’s place,” he mumbles to himself. He frowns slightly in confusion. The last he recalled, they would have rendezvoused at Jisung and Felix’s home. He doesn’t think too much of it, setting the phone aside and turning his attention to the camera data.

There was no clear surveillance of the laboratory, only the rooms of the mansion, but Hyunjin wasn’t about to let the minute roadblock stop him in his tracks. An agonized hiss leaves his lips as he leans back, sending pain rocketing through his back and shooting his posture upright once more. He groans and lowers his head into his hand, darkening his vision momentarily before turning back to the screens.

Typing into the monitor before him, he watches as the surveillance monitors flicker and shift to the laboratory rooms. Breathing out a sigh, his eyes darken as he sees that all of the cell rooms are empty, perfectly clean, as though no one had ever inhabited them. By now, even the bodies that he had seen under tarpaulins were nowhere to be found

Searching the laboratory would be a waste of time, he realizes, and tosses the paper he had grabbed messily into the drawer before rummaging through it once more. He pulls out multiple papers, each printed with a selection of instructions that were honestly so incredibly dry and obscure that he couldn’t be bothered with reading them. He sets them on the counter and instead shifts his attention to the exterior of the estate and rest of the property.

His eyes narrow as he catches sight of something odd past the driveway and near the west wing. The shipment vans left from the east, so whatever vehicle was there could not be one of the Yang's. Tapping at the keyboard, he zooms in on the image on the monitor, pleasantly surprised by the quality of the surveillance equipment, although it should have been expected. His eyes widen and he tenses, immediately flinching as another wave of pain shoots through his body. At this point he was near numb to the initial pulsating, and while that probably wasn’t a good thing, he was grateful nonetheless.

“Woojin hyung?” he gasps to himself in shock when he discerns the shadowed face of the figure within the all too familiar SUV. His hand seizes up on the mouse and his jaw tightens. As though ice cold water had been poured over his body, he couldn’t breathe. Woojin was there. And he appeared to be waiting, which could only mean— “Oh, no...Oh, no, no, this is not good,” Hyunjin mumbles.

He looks back to the main monitor in front of him and scrolls through the recordings until one catches his attention, namely a few familiar faces that were very clearly attempting to trespass. In the cover of night, Jisung, Changbin and Chan were sufficiently hidden, but it was Minho that stood out, his frame flickering and insubstantial, as though he were not the solid apparition that they had grown accustomed to, but his spectral self. It was eerie.

Without bothering to look through the entire recording, Hyunjin searches through the monitors once more, and his eyes widen as he catches the four of them, this time with the addition of Jeongin, being ushered out of one of the estate’s rooms, bound and blindfolded. Yes, this definitely counted as very bad. Extremely so. Especially since there was currently a very still, very lifeless body laying in the room that Hyunjin assumes is Jeongin's with a very familiar face. Hyunjin's blood freezes in his veins—he recognized the businessman, would recognize him anywhere. Mr. Yang was indeed as dead as a doornail, and Hyunjin could tell a bullet through the head when he saw one.

Eyes wide and dry, Hyunjin’s gaze remains trained on the screen. He taps his way back into the monitor again, fingers flying as he hacks the system this time around. It was much easier said than done, as Hyunjin discovers. He would have found the challenge enjoyable, were his friends’ lives not currently at stake. And he virtually had a front row seat to the horror all to himself if he couldn’t do anything.

Grabbing the cell phone with one hand, he dials a number into it and holds it between his shoulder and ear, grimacing at the throbbing pain that only increased with the strain it took to maintain the awkward position as his fingers return to the keyboard. He breathes out slowly, tears of agony budding in the corners of his eyes. It really did hurt, but he was never one to complain aloud in the face of real pain.

As a warm tear rolls down his cheek, followed by another and then another, his eyes narrow and fixate on the lines of coding that covered his screen. The ringing of the phone stops and Hyunjin draws in a breath, willing his heart rate to slow lest he lose more blood than he already had.

“Who is this?”

“Seungminnie?” Hyunjin near chokes on his own breaths in his relief. “Oh, Seungminnie thank goodness it’s you—”

There’s a momentary pause on the other end of the line, and then a gasp of realization. “Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin nods, nearly dropping the phone and wincing at the fresh wave of pain. His gaze darts away from the primary monitor to the screens and he splits his duties as he finds the group of people herded into a familiar room in a now familiar office. He redirects his surveillance to the laboratories. “Seungminnie, listen to me carefully,” he states, his voice uncharacteristically grave. He silently praises himself for keeping his voice steady. He was very much in turmoil at the moment.

“All right. I have Lix here with me. We’re listening.” 

“Chan hyung, Minho hyung, Changbin hyung and Jisung found Jeonginnie, but they were caught. They’re in big trouble.” Although he speaks, his fingers never stop moving for a single moment. The incessant clacking sound accompanies his voice, filling up the otherwise rather lonely expanse. “Don’t panic. We need to get them out of here as soon as possible…” 

Contrary to his expectations, the pair on the other side of the call are silent. Hyunjin can hear some mumbling between them, but can’t decipher their words. Finally, Seungmin’s voice rings on the phone once more. “Hyung, what are you doing right now? We just lost Changbin hyung’s signal, but we have yours again.”

Hyunjin pauses momentarily and glances up at the screen to see that the servants had dispersed around the laboratory and that their friends had temporarily been locked up in the cell. He frowns. It was too much for a single system, no matter how sophisticated to handle any more than he was forcing it to, and even if he did open their cell, there was no valid escape route to take without certain capture. 

“However you managed to get his signal I don’t know, but I can see him right now. He...looks like he’s injured.” Hyunjin’s eyes narrow again. “I’m in the control room where all the surveillance is. I’m with…” he peers back at the man, who still stood by the door, watching him silently. “...I’m with Mr. Han.” 

“Who?!” This time it’s Felix’s voice, loud and shocked. 

“Doesn’t matter!” Hyunjin interjects, raising his voice to hush the blonde. “I’m in the surveillance room and I’m tracing and copying all the data to a phone I borrowed. I’ve already backed it up to one of my devices so that if anything happens to this phone I can still have access to it.” He huffs. “Stop asking so many questions, Lixie, I have to concentrate.” He pouts.

“I literally asked you, like, one question,” Felix huffs. 

“Anyway,” Seungmin interjects. “You keep doing that, hyung. Get everything you can. Please. Leave the rest to Lix and I.” There’s a long silence on the phone before Seungmin’s voice reaches him again, clearer and closer. He had turned the speaker setting off, Hyunjin understood.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Hyunjin,” Seungmin sighs. “Stay safe, all right?”

Now didn’t seem to be a good time to alert Seungmin that he had been shot, so Hyunjin keeps that piece of information to himself. After all, he wasn’t dead yet. He smiles. “Don’t worry your smart little head over it, Minnie,” he chirps. “I don’t die off easy.” 

“Stay safe, Hwang Hyunjin,” Seungmin repeats, this time a little sterner. Hyunjin’s smile softens slightly at that.

“Aye aye, captain,” he hums, before allowing the brunette to hang up. Raising a hand, he disposes the phone on the tabletop once again before returning his full attention to the screen.

His eyes widen further if at all possible and he shoots to his feet, knocking over the chair that he had previously been sitting in. "Mr. Han, a question," he calls out, his voice dry and unusually monotonous. "Are there instances where the people brought in to be harvested...aren't harvested and just killed?"

"It depends," the man replies as soon as he's questioned, and Hyunjin peers at his reflection on the screen to find him gripping his side with beads of sweat forming at the corner of his brow. "Every body is different, but the criteria for harvesting is very particular. Research is done thoroughly before acquiring the merchandise. Mr. Yang generally dislikes wasting lives and avoids it as much as possible. Sometimes when the body turns out to be faulty, there's no option but to get rid of it "

"How about for Mrs. Yang?" Hyunjin asks carefully, a hand darting over to the phone to tap the screen carefully. His left hand whirls over the keyboard while his gaze remains trained on the lab's camera.

Mr. Han's silence following his question leads Hyunjin to tear his gaze away from the screen and pause the dextrous movements of his fingers. "Mr. Han…?"

The man's eyes are glued to the screen and Hyunjin, with a slight edge of discomfort, turns around to focus on the sight that awaited him, only for his eyes to widen. The only curse of the surveillance technology was the lack of audio, but while he hadn't the slightest clue what words were being exchanged, he could easily see that blood would be shed. 

His heart sinks and his fingers dart back to their places as his dreaded outcome unfolds before his eyes while he sits helplessly behind a screen. He taps at the cell phone once again teeth sinking into his bottom lip. So caught up in his tasks was he that he barely notices the line of blood that trickles down his lip.

* * *

"Hyunjin's sending a distress signal," Felix blurts out, his gaze darting over to Seungmin. "I'm heading out."

"Felix, you can't just do that," Seungmin peers over the rims of his circular glasses, his brow creasing. "You're injured, and we have things to do right now." The brunette tugs off his glasses and winces at the streak they leave on his face where his skin had begun to ooze pus from the burns. Lifting a damp towel, he presses it to the affected area, sighing at the small relief it brought. 

The blonde stares at him, frustration glimmering in his eyes. "You're not keeping me here. We both know Hyunjin would never send anything like that ever. Even if he was actually in danger." Felix sets the laptop aside and rises to his feet, carefully moving the sleeping Kkami off of his lap. The pup scuffles slightly at the loss of warmth, but doesn't awaken. "It means that something's really wrong."

"Yes, Lix, everything is wrong," Seungmin sighs, his gaze hardening. "That's why we have to stay here and make as much of it right as we can—" he glances up from his papers and the screen of another laptop that sat on the carpet in front of him to find Felix gripping the landline and dialling a number. "What are you doing?!"

"Calling mum and dad," Felix states simply, holding the phone to his ear as it rings. The blonde's eyes drift down to Seungmin, who looked terribly pale, the skin under his right eye dark with exhaustion and his body slumped. His injuries weren't treating him well either, but Felix knew better than to suggest he go to the hospital. He frowns. "Minnie, I'm okay. My burns aren't so bad—" he cuts himself off abruptly, switching to a rapid slew of some odd melange of English and Korean. 

Seungmin blinks owlishly up at him before craning his neck with evident effort to eye the laptop, where the blue light on the grid indeed blinks the call for help in repetitive succession. He frowns and glances down at his papers, squinting slightly at the letters. His left eye had been acting up as well, although he owed it to the burns that had not yet healed. Everything had dulled to a constant throb that he had become so accustomed to it was barely noticeable any more, but maintaining the impromptu dressings that Chan had wrapped him in were a little problematic.

Everything was falling into place piece by piece, almost as rapidly as everything was falling apart, and the terrible farce would be left to whichever came full circle first. So while Seungmin could feel the tendrils of exhaustion creeping in on him, he would have to disobey Chan's orders to rest and carry on with his attempts to organize this deluge of newfound, crucial information.

"I'm heading out," Felix announces once again, snapping Seungmin from his train of thought. 

The brunette’s brow creases, followed by a wince and then a frustrated sigh. “Felix, how are you going to get anywhere? You’re not going to walk. It’ll take you hours to get to the Yang property, let alone the estate.” Seungmin carefully lays aside his papers and slowly pushes himself to his feet, gritting his teeth stubbornly to prevent any unintentional sounds from escaping his lips. He feels something tear on his arm and he gasps, his eyes widening.

“Seungmin!” Before he can hurt himself further, Seungmin feels Felix’s weight supporting him and he reluctantly lets the blonde support him. He catches the concerned frown on Felix’s lips and he clucks his tongue. He’s silent as Felix guides him to the chair and helps him sit down. “My parents already contacted the organized crime unit and the paramedics. They’re on their way right now. I asked them if they could grab me on the way there.” 

Seungmin’s eyes narrow. “That’s a crime scene, Lix, you can’t just waltz in there and do whatever you want.” 

“I want to see Jeongin and Jisung and the others,” Felix insists. “I need to make sure they’re okay.” He stares Seungmin in the eyes. “I’m going.”

Lips pressed into a line, Seungmin finally nods, wincing slightly. “Fine. Go. But I need you to find Hyunjin first and get the data from him. Also, before you go, could you get me the laptop and my papers? And the phone.” He rolls his eyes affectionately. “I’ll pull weight for both of us if you’re not going to.” 

“Don’t guilt-trip me like this, Minnie,” Felix pouts, but quickly darts around to gather the things Seungmin had requested, absently grabbing the towel as well and folding it before laying it on the armrest of the chair in case Seungmin would need it. If anything, the brunette needed a doctor, but Felix had a sneaking suspicion that he’d have to forcibly drag the brunette away from the laptop if he wanted to take him to the hospital.

“Someone needs to do the paperwork around here,” Seungmin retorts with no real bite in his voice. "Besides, now that you've decided to involve the police in this, it's going to get more complicated.." he drifts off, his brow furrowing once again. "But who cares about that. If you have to go, then go." Seungmin offers him a smile. "I'll get things straightened out while you're there." 

Felix nods and grabs Seungmin a glass of water and a few painkillers, setting the glass and the pills on the side table within the man's reach. "Okay. Sorry for leaving you to do it all, Min."

"Don't say sorry, just go do what you have to," Seungmin huffs, fingers clasping the glass and raising it to his lips, his warm breaths fogging the rim. He pauses and lowers the glass slightly. "Oh, and Lixie…"

"Hm..?"

"Make sure Chan hyung's okay, would you?"

The blonde's eyes soften slightly and he nods. "Will do. I'll talk to you later." With a nod from the man, he turns and slips on a pair of shoes, quickly leaving the apartment suite and leaving Seungmin to himself. 

Drawing in a harsh breath, Seungmin sits himself upright, gripping the glass tightly. He downs the water along with the painkillers and sets the glass on the table, his attention turning to the screen. 

* * *

Minho's legs near give out on him in relief as the hands of their remaining attackers rise above their heads. The relatively small size of the corridors didn't allow for any escape and he watches with grim satisfaction as they're arrested along with Mrs. Yang and herded out of the laboratory. He glances over at Jeongin and just manages to shift and catch the younger as Jeongin's legs really do give out on him, the knife in his hands falling out of his bloodied fingers.

Minho's eyes drift up to the police who approach him and he frowns. "They need medical attention," he states, jerking his neck towards Changbin, Jisung, Chan, and Mrs. Han. His gaze drifts back to Jeongin, who was trembling quite palpably in his arms. "And him too. Please."

Of course, Minho himself could have been the one who looked the most horrific of all of them, but at this moment his body felt light to the point where he didn't doubt that he could just pull all the bullets that had remained embedded in him out. Fortunately for him, it appeared as though help was indeed coming in the form of the paramedics, a godsend in their predicament.

Minho glances down at Jeongin and offers him a smile of reassurance, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. “It’s okay now,” he tells him softly. “It’s over. We’ll get you to the hospital and they won’t do anything without you knowing any more.” He ruffles Jeongin’s hair. “Thanks for helping me out back there, Innie.” 

“Hyung…” The younger’s eyes are glazed over with something Minho recognized all too well—he had seen the same in his own eyes twenty years ago. He takes Jeongin’s head in his hands and meets his eyes firmly. 

“Jeongin, this isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. You didn’t know anything. You couldn’t have done anything." He bumps his forehead against Jeongin's. "Someone told me that I shouldn't have to do things because I feel responsible for others who can take care of themselves. I should do things because I want to do them, and if they benefit others, that's a bonus."

Minho moves back as a stretcher arrives for Jeongin. "So don't blame yourself for what you couldn't have prevented, praise yourself for what you did. You were so brave."

Jeongin stares at him with unfocused eyes and offers him a crooked smile. "Thanks, hyung...but it doesn't change the fact that I—" his breath catches in his throat and his eyes widen as he stares over the bloodstained expanse around them. His eyes grow vacant and Minho winces. 

"You did well," he assures gently. "I'll see you soon."

As Jeongin is helped out of the laboratory, Minho pulls himself to his feet with a renewed vigour and stretches his arms, watching as the bullets that had been fired into him fall onto the linoleum floor with a clatter. He surveys the area carefully until he catches sight of Jisung, standing helplessly by the entrance of the cell-like room, staring after the stretcher that wheeled his mother away. She didn't seem well in the slightest, and the makeshift bandage that Chan had impulsively tied around the slash on her neck was drenched in blood. 

Jisung himself didn't seem too badly battered, for which Minho felt a wave of relief crash down over him. Before he can make so much as a step towards the man, however, two of the cops do, both with a surprising speed. "Jisung? Jisung are you okay?" The woman between the pair asks taking Jisung's head in both her hands and turning it this way and that, her worried gaze raking over him.

Jisung's distant gaze returns to the present and he stares at the two policemen, his eyes widening. He throws his arms around them and hugs them tightly, breaking into sudden and violent tears. "Mum! Dad!"

"Jisung…" the woman wraps her arms tightly around him, squeezing him in an almost iron grip. "Felix told us that you were here—we were worried sick!" She pulls back and stares up at him with glassy, narrowed eyes. "Don’t ever do something reckless like this again. You could have gotten killed, Jisung!”

“I’m okay, mum, everyone else got hurt, I’m just a bit bruised,” Jisung mumbles, burying his face in her shoulder, his arm tightening around his adoptive father as well, refusing to let either of the two go because at the moment, they were all he had. He could barely think, there was so much running through his mind, but somehow, the familiar warmth of his family grounded him. 

Family… Jisung’s eyes fly open and he tenses, his gaze flickering down the corridor once again. He moves away from them and looks from his mother’s face to his father’s. He bites his lip. “Mum, Dad, I… I met my mum—” he cuts himself off abruptly, unsure of what to say. 

The two exchange a look, and this time it’s his father that speaks, his voice a rumbling, warm baritone, reminiscent of a certain freckled blonde. “We know.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen. 

“Not just your mother—your father is somewhere here too, Jisung,” his mother murmurs, her voice suddenly grave. She glances up at the man beside her again and breathes out a sigh, grabbing the communicator. “This is Sergeant Lee. We’ve secured the the lab. Check the rooms for any merchandise and don’t let any vehicles out of the premises unless they’re ambulances. Over.” Her eyes drift back to Jisung. “We’ll talk to you later, Jisungie,” she promises. “First we have to get this job done.” 

The two of them move on, leaving Jisung staring at them, stunned. His lips part, but no words leave them, and as he’s left alone with his mind, his thoughts come colliding against each other, overwhelming him and stealing the strength from his legs. He sinks down onto the bloodied floor, gaze wide and empty. Everything had happened—was happening—too fast. 

A coolness against his shoulder drives his mind out of its hazed delirium and he lifts his head to find Minho staring at him. His eyes widen as he sees the man’s body without a single scratch despite the fact that he had very nearly been mutilated right before their eyes. It was Jisung’s painful reminder as he sees the Minho’s skin glowing ever so slightly, shining translucently in a way that no human’s should. He swallows a dryness in his throat. “...Minho.” 

“What happened to dumbass?” Minho asks, his voice gentle, almost bordering on affectionate as his hand shifts down to Jisung’s back, running firm circles against his skin. “Or do you just like saying my name that much?”

“Shut up, Minho, this isn’t the time…” Despite himself, Jisung can’t help the faint smile that cracks onto his lips and he wonders just why such a smile, no matter how small, had appeared on his face. The last thing he felt like doing at the moment was smile. 

The hand on his back slows to a stop and Minho’s lilting chuckle fills his ears like the clarion ringing of a church bell. “There we go. That’s better.” He feels Minho’s hand tilting his chin up and he’s forced to meet the man’s cattish eyes, crinkled in amusement. Past all of that, Jisung can see the guilt, the agony, the tiredness, buried beneath carefully maintained layers of a meticulously crafted facade. Jisung was learning to see Minho beyond what Minho wanted him to see, and perhaps that was what troubled him more than anything else.

“Minho, I—”

“You’re alive, Jisung,” Minho interjects, voice laced with a relief that seemed so genuine that Jisung could only hope that it was part of Minho’s act. “You’re alive.” 

“I’m...alive,” Jisung echoes slowly, his own voice seeming foreign to him, as though it weren’t really his own, but was that of another, somehow projecting out of his body.

Minho’s fingers trace his features, his eyes, nose, lips, before resting at his cheeks again. “You’re safe now, Jisung. We’re safe. Everything’s all right now, Jisung.”

No, everything wasn’t okay, and that was what Jisung wished he could scream, the words bubbling in his chest and sticking in his throat, but refusing to leave his lips. Nothing was okay. His parents, whom he was so certain had sold him off, had abandoned him, were here. Within his reach. And his biological mother had risked her life instead of shooting him. His adoptive parents weren’t surprised by this revelation either, and the realization of the cold, hard truth sinks in Jisung’s gut like lead. 

They had known all along.

His head hangs and he sighs. “...I’m so tired, Minho,” he mutters, slumping against the man, his forehead resting against Minho’s shoulder. 

Cool arms snake around his figure and squeeze him gently before helping him to his feet. He glances up at Minho once again to find the man looping their fingers together and squeezing his hands. “Let’s head back, then, Jisung. We’ll go see everyone tomorrow morning at the hospital.” 

Jisung wanted to scream and cry and throw a tantrum like a toddler, his seething frustrations almost too much for his body to contain, but at the moment his body was far too exhausted to do any of those things. He couldn’t help but wonder how Minho could just breeze everything off, joke like everything was normal. And that was only scraping the surface of things that shouldn’t be breezed off. 

“Sung! Sungie!” Jisung’s gaze barely has time to focus before he’s knocked to the ground by an armful of oversized sweater, bandages and blonde hair. His eyes widen and he sits up almost immediately, his eyes locking in on the freckled blonde. 

“Lixie? Lixie!” He throws his arms around Felix and hugs him tightly, warmth seeping into his frame from Felix, the blonde hugging him equally as tight to the point where the two of them would probably need to be pried apart with a crowbar. Jisung buries his face in Felix’s shoulder. “Mum and Dad told me you were the one that called them—you saved us, Lix,” he babbles. “We’d be goners if you hadn’t called them..” 

“Thank Hyunjin,” Felix mumbles back. “He was the one that alerted us to send help.” 

Jisung gasps and scrambles to his feet, his eyes meeting Minho’s and then Felix’s. “Hyunjin! Where is he?! Is he okay?”

Felix winces. “...they got him on an ambulance with Mr. Han. He got shot and lost a lot of blood. Apparently he was wandering around with the bullet wound for a while—the paramedics were surprised that he was still conscious. He’ll need a transfusion.” 

Jisung pauses. “Wait—did you say—” 

Felix tilts his head in puzzlement before realization dawns in his gaze. He frowns. “Yeah. Apparently. But he helped Hyunjin and he didn’t hurt him...it might count for something.” 

Jisung’s bitter mood returns with a fervour. Shaking his head, he trudges down the corridor mindlessly, feet searching for the exit but mind nowhere near as focussed. Felix and Minho exchange a glance before both rush after him. 

They’re met outside of the estate by Woojin, who pauses in his conversation with one of the policemen to rake his gaze over them. When he’s satisfied that they’re sufficiently uninjured, he thanks the policeman and strides over to them. He looks them over individually, and Jisung doesn’t bother hiding his landslide of irritating emotions because he knows that the man will see through him in a blink. 

Understanding dawns in Woojin’s eyes and he nods, jerking a thumb towards the SUV parked in the courtyard. “Come on, all of you,” he states, his voice brooking no room for argument. “We’re going back to Changbin’s place. You all need to rest.” 

“What are you doing in here?” Minho can’t help but ask, his eyes slightly narrowed. They had agreed that Woojin would stay away from the estate itself so that they would have been able to make a quick getaway once they had recovered Hyunjin and Jeongin. Not that that plan had gone smoothly to begin with, but even so, Woojin should have had no need to change his position.

In response, the man just shakes his head and offers them a smile. “That’s a story for another time. Right now, I need to get you all home.” 

Jisung glances back at the estate, looming over them in all its foreboding glory. It didn't see him in the slightest, but instead left a bitter taste in his mouth. Too many bad memories were buried within this place—it made him feel a coil of nausea in his gut that refused to subside. He feels a hand around his own and glances back to see Minho eyeing him with something indecipherable within his eyes. 

"Come on, lets go," Minho says, tugging his arm slightly and leading him to where Woojin and Felix were already waiting in the SUV. 

After a moment's hesitation, Jisung follows him silently, the nausea slowly ebbing away, leaving only a dull, heavy ache in its place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, safe and sound, but definitely with more questions~ or at least I am!  
> Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to read and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time~


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers and welcome~  
> Thank you all so much for staying with me for the duration of this story, and I hope you continue to do so  
> It's a bit late, and for that I apologize, but thank you all for helping me reach 4k+ hits!  
> Without further ado, lets go

"Look at this, Woojinnie hyung, weren't you the coolest?" 

"Hyunjin, please—stop bouncing around like that, you just got a bullet removed from your back. You're lucky that the bullet only broke your shoulder blade and didn't do anything more," Woojin scolds from the bedside. 

The taller man calms down and peers up at him with a pout. "But hyung, you were so cool! Those supply vans didn't stand a chance. I never knew you were such a good shot! Only took you one try and boom—bye-bye tires. Were you expecting the recoil or was it your first time?"

Woojin's eyes soften slightly at the man's excitement and he reaches up to ruffle Hyunjin's hair. "I'd rather shoot tires than people. Besides—the police were able to catch the drivers easily." He curls his fingers over the laptop that rested on Hyunjin's lap and shuts it. "Now I know you're eager to root through all those files, but you need to rest." He purses his lips. "And you really shouldn't be talking about these things in a wing where everyone can hear you."

Woojin steals a glance around them and then allows his gaze to fall on Hyunjin once again. There was a slight paleness to Hyunjin's skin that was uncharacteristic, bags under his eyes and a slight tremble to his slender fingers. Although Hyunjin's lips were spread into an easygoing grin, his eyes had no sparkle. There was something deathly serious buried deep within the man's gaze, and it left Woojin with an uneasy feeling in his gut. 

Reaching out, Woojin rests his hands over Hyunjin's. "Are you doing okay, darling?" He asks gently, fingers rubbing over Hyunjin's knuckles. "You're trying harder than usual to be energetic, don't try to hide from me." He raises an eyebrow. 

Hyunjin pouts. "There you go, assuming the worst of me again," he complains petulantly, hands curling into loose fists atop his laptop, borrowed from Changbin since his actual laptop was broken beyond repair. "I'm fine, hyung, promise...I mean, aside from the obvious."

"The obvious being that you were kidnapped and then nearly killed, Hyunjin," Woojin specifies bluntly, abandoning ambiguity. "I can't imagine that nothing's on your mind right now."

Hyunjin's eyebrows knit as the amusement fades off his features. "I'm okay. I swear." He tilts his head. "Nothing was going to happen to me. I knew what to do."

Woojin's grip on Hyunjin's hands tightens. "Hyunjin. You were nearly killed. You can't just say that nothing was going to happen to you." Although the eldest's voice is steady Hyunjin can't help but sense something off about his bearing. Woojin meets his gaze and Hyunjin's eyes widen when he sees the man's eyes shining with a dreadful emotion that he never wanted to see on his face again. Fear didn't suit Woojin.

Leaning over slightly, as much as his back would allow him, Hyunjin bumps his forehead against Woojin’s with a crinkle-eyed smile. “Don’t worry so much, hyung. I think they had more trouble with me than I did with them.” Hyunjin pokes the man’s cheek with a finger and keeps it there, dimpling the man’s skin. “If I died, I die. But I wasn’t going to. I’m still here.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t mind dying, Hyunjin, but I do,” Woojin murmurs, reaching up to take the man’s head in his hands. “I told you before I’m selfish when it comes to you. I never want you put into a situation where I could lose you like that again. And I’m sure that everyone else feels the same.” 

Hyunjin is silent for a few moments before his lips pull upwards and his eyes crinkle once again in a sweet smile. “I don’t care, hyung. I live for me, not for you or anyone else. I’ll do what I want to. You can’t hold me down.”

And that was something that Woojin had no words to refute. Hyunjin was indeed someone who would do what he wanted, and perhaps that was the source of Woojin’s apprehension; that the free spirit would one day fly out of his reach. But as he stares at the younger man, observes him carefully, searches through his dark eyes, he sees what he had perhaps been trying not to. Perhaps he had wanted to find dread and fearfulness in the younger to urge him to step away from his reckless habits. But that wouldn’t be the Hyunjin that he knew. The Hyunjin he knew was indomitable, and most beautiful when he was free. 

“Maybe not,” Woojin hums, thumbs brushing against the man’s cheeks as he leans close to press a soft peck to the mole beneath his left eye. “But it's okay to fall back on me when you need to, you know. I really wish you'd do that more."

Hyunjin cocks his head slightly and grins. "I do hyung, don't you see? I do and so does everyone else." He raises an eyebrow. "You're just so used to dealing with all of us that you don't even realize it. Difference between me and everyone else is that to you I'm your boyfriend before anything else. I told you to trust me, right?"

"Yes, you did but—" Woojin is cut off by a finger on his lips as Hyunjin leans close to him once more, the man's warm breath breezing over his skin. 

"We're not one-sided, hyung. Yes, what happened was my fault and it was stupid dangerous to you, but it was what happened. And I couldn't do anything about that. But I could survive and I knew how to. And I did! I mean...apart from getting shot. That wasn't a part of the plan. Whatever. I know that you worry about us a lot. I know you worry about me a lot. And I don’t want you to. I want to be someone you don’t have to worry about—that’s why I take sole responsibility for what I do.” 

Woojin’s eyes soften as Hyunjin’s lips pull into a pout, glimmers of worry laced in his dark eyes. Perhaps he had always inadvertently assumed the worst of the man, an unjust preconception since all Hyunjin had wanted was to be treated as an equal. Perhaps it wasn’t Hyunjin who had failed him, but he himself who had failed Hyunjin. “I will never stop worrying about you, I hope you realize that, Hyunjin,” he chuckles. He laughs and his head falls into his hands as he fights back the warm sensation at his eyes. "I really don't know...I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

And at that, the younger man frowns, reaching over with effort and evident pain to rest a hand on Woojin's shoulder. "Hyung, it's okay. I'm okay. It just needs a bit of time to heal and then everything will be back to normal. Promise."

"You can't promise that," Woojin murmurs.

Hyunjin's eyes narrow and his lips curl into a displeased frown. "No, _you_ can't promise that," he refutes sharply. " _I_ can. Because you think that words carry so much weight. Hyung, I'll say what I want. Words don't mean anything to me." He shrugs. "I can say pretty things all I want, but in the end, it all boils down to what I do. And hyung, even if I don't ever completely heal, I'll be okay. You know why? Because I'm going to keep living no matter what. And I won't stop until something forces me to."

Woojin's eyes widen slightly before softening. He stares down at his lap and shakes his head. "That _is_ something you'd say," he hums.

"Stop doubting me, hyung. I don't like complicated things. Yes, I was trying hard to be happy, but it's because you looked really sad. I'm not trying to compensate, I just want to help you as much as you help me." He huffs and crosses his arms, biting back a wince in favour of a mock-pout. "Sometimes I wonder if you really try to understand me at all."

An amused light creeping back into his eyes, Woojin throws his hands up in defeat. "You're right, it's my fault, I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I should know better." Woojin purses his lips. "Hwang Hyunjin, you are an enigma."

"Really?" The man blinks owlishly. "I'd say I'm pretty easy to understand. You're the confusing one, Woojinnie."

"Shhhh...just—" Woojin leans forward and gently captures the man's lips with his own to silence him. Hyunjin happily reciprocates, moving back after a few seconds to stifle a giggle.

"Stubborn hyung," Hyunjin lilts. "Just admit you're wrong." He smiles and reaches up to poke Woojin's cheek. "I love you~" Without bothering to wait for a response, Hyunjin flips open his laptop, only to have it shut once again by Woojin's hand. He peers up at the older man with a fresh pout on his lips. As he opens his mouth to complain, Woojin rests a finger on his lips and shakes his head.

“I know you’re eager to get things done, but you need to rest first,” the man admonishes. 

Hyunjin pouts and crosses his arms over his chest. “But hyung,” he whines.

Woojin shakes his head firmly and rests his hand on Hyunjin’s chest. “No buts. You and Seungmin both need to learn how to stop when you’re injured.” Gently, he pushes the man down onto the bed and stands up, quickly snatching Hyunjin’s laptop before he can open it once more. “I’m going to go see Chan now. I’ll drop by again, all right? You rest.” 

Hyunjin just turns his head away childishly. “It’s gonna be so boring, hyung. And you took away my only source of entertainment. You’re so mean. It’s just a bullet, bullets never killed anyone.” 

With skeptical eyebrows riding up on his brow, Woojin reaches down to ruffle Hyunjin’s hair. “Rest for now. Tell you what—you rest properly today, and I’ll let you get back to work tomorrow.” He brushes Hyunjin’s hair from his face and leans down to press his lips to the man’s forehead. “All right, love?”

At first, there’s no response, and then a sigh. “Fine. But you’d better or I’m gonna ditch this place myself and run away.” 

Woojin’s lips curl into a smile against Hyunjin’s forehead. “I know, I know.”

* * *

“You never told me the full truth! How could you hide something like that from me?” Minho’s eyes narrow, his gaze brimming with concern as he leans over the hospital bed, not bothering to sit on the chairs provided. A few gazes, either curious or piqued, turn to stare at him for his outburst. At the realization, Minho winces and sighs, settling down on the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Chan stares at him silently with dark eyes, pale body covered by a teal hospital gown which obscured the dreadful marks from Minho’s sight. Fortunately for the blonde, his wounds could have been much more critical, and more so than anything, Minho was grateful that Chan wasn’t gravely injured.

“...you never asked, Minho,” Chan replies simply, his voice ridden with tiredness and perhaps a hint of pain that he was desperately making attempts to mask.

Minho rubs the back of his neck in frustration. “What was I supposed to ask you?” he hisses, his voice quieting so as not to be heard by any of the patients or nurses in the area. “If you were a member of Black Tiger? Chan, you are literally the most diligent, softhearted person I know. Hell, you’re frightened to death by blood! And your siblings are gone because of Black Tiger!” He shakes his head. 

The blonde only sighs once again, the sound resigned and taut. Chan shifts upright and turns to look at Minho. “I know. When we found out who you were, and what happened to you...I’m sorry, Minho, I couldn’t say it. I knew you’d react like this.” 

“It’s not even that you were part of that organization, Chan, it’s the fact that you never mentioned it! The reason that they all targeted you in the first place was because they knew who you were! That was stupidly dangerous!” Minho’s fingers curl into his palms. “If you had said something then we could have avoided that!”

“Could we really?” Chan retorts coolly. “If you had known, what would it have done except made friction between us? If we were about to go on an operation that could kill us all, the last thing we need is something that’ll impair our teamwork.” 

“Like your identity,” Minho murmurs scathingly before sighing and lowering his head into his hands. “Sorry…” 

A hand on his shoulder causes Minho to jump slightly, startled. Head whipping around and hair falling into his eyes, he stares up at Woojin, who appeared unfazed by the sight of them. As per usual. Minho frowns.

“Minho, your appearance fluctuates when you lose your calm,” Woojin alerts, sitting down in the empty chair beside him. “You should probably keep an eye on that.” 

Chan sits upright far too quickly at the sight of Woojin, flinching and favouring his leg. “Woojin, is Seungmin—”

“Yes, he’s in the burn centre. I took him to the hospital last night because he was in a lot of pain. He didn’t rest like you told him to, but I can’t say I didn’t expect that.” Woojin’s lips purse into a frown and he interjects the moment he sees Chan’s mouth open. “Don’t you go trying to stand up and see him. I already had to talk Hyunjin out of overworking himself earlier, I don’t need to repeat myself.” 

“I’m really gathering all the scoldings today, aren’t I?” Chan comments ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck with his uninjured hand. He closes his eyes. “How much of that did you hear?” he focusses his eyes on Woojin once again. 

“Enough,” Woojin responds calmly. His shoulders rise in a shrug. “Don’t stress so much over it, Chan. What’s done is done. Let’s be thankful that casualties were kept low…” his gaze darkens. 

Chan's head hangs slightly and he frowns at his lap. "How is Mrs. Han?" He asks softly, hesitance laced through his voice. 

"She's in the ICU," Minho interjects. "The hospital was ordered to not let anyone see her. Probably because of her association…" he drifts off, his gaze fixating Chan once again. He pauses before his gaze flickers over to Woojin. "You said you heard enough, but you don't look surprised—don't tell me—"

Woojin tilts his head slightly. "That I knew Chan had affiliations with Black Tiger all along? I did." He rests a hand on Minho's arm before the man can make another unnecessarily animated exclamation. "As a matter of fact, I'm the one that has the keys to his firearms case. He entrusted me with them."

Minho throws up his arms. "Why did you not tell me then?" He murmurs. "You of all people should have known the risk that it'd bring!"

"There was simply no point," Woojin hums. "He had made up his mind. Besides, he has no more relation to Black Tiger any more. It's only a facet of his past that he's accepted and moved on from."

"But why?" Minho asks, glimmers of apprehension sprinkled through his eyes. "Why would you want to work with them?"

Woojin and Chan exchange a look before the blonde turns to meet Minho's eyes squarely. "Survival."

Confusion spreads it's way across Minho's features before giving under the sudden understanding. His mouth goes dry as his lips part. "Your parents—" Minho was certain that, had there been any blood in his body, it would be a cold mass, raising goosebumps over his pale skin. 

Chan nods, lips curling into a rueful smile. "My siblings and I were born into Black Tiger. Both our parents were active and loyal members. I don't remember too much about them, and I'm sure Lucas and Hannah would remember even less. It was pretty common for them to leave us for days at a time, so we had to fend for ourselves."

Chan rubs his wounded arm carefully, his gaze growing distant with the weight of his reminiscences. "When I was five, I learned to fight with a knife like any other child. When I was ten, I learned how to use a gun. When I was twelve, I became a debt collector like the other Black Tiger juveniles. We were paid for those services, so the money I received from...doing my job, went towards taking care of Lucas and Hannah."

His hand curls into a fist, taking with it the sparse material of his hospital blanket. "Lucas never trained to fight. He'd stay home and take care of Hannah because she was a sickly child. I never realized it at the time, but Lucas was taking money from Black Tiger to buy Hannah improper medication because it was all he could get his hands on. And...since he never worked, when the time came to pay off his debt—" Chan's voice catches in his throat.

Minho blinks, reaching up to his eyes. He hadn't even realized that tears had begun to bud, his mind thrown back to memories of a child, just a little more serious, a little less frightened than the rest. That child that looked eerily similar to the curly-haired man before him. That child that hadn't survived the escape. He covers his mouth in horror.

"When I got back home, he was gone. There was a bloody knife on the ground—his fingerprints were on it. And Hannah was…" Chan's face turns whiter than a sheet and his body begins to tremble. He buries his head in his hands and grips his hair. "Blood...she was in a pool of her own blood," he whispers," a sickly note to his voice. "She was still alive… she called my name—she could barely talk—I tried to save her, I tried everything I could but she..."

Woojin stands and quietly moves to rub Chan's back, whispering quietly into his ear. What words were passed between them, Chan responding only with intermittent nods, was beyond Minho's range of hearing, but when the once turns to face him with a shaky smile, he understands that he should leave. He nods slowly, dry-eyed. "Thank you for telling me," he murmurs. He sighs. "I'm sorry. It doesn't mean much now, but I was worried about you back then."

"I know," Chan responds simply, softly, with a gentle expression of understanding in his haunted, dark eyes. Minho stares at him for a few moments, silently cursing the fates that had dealt Chan the cards that he most certainly hadn't deserved. He breathes out a resigned sigh.

Minho rises to his feet. He strides out of the room as Woojin calls for a nurse and nearly walks into Changbin the man stopping just short of him before they can collide and fall into an unseemly heap on the linoleum floor. Minho was beginning to see the reason behind disliking hospitals. 

"You good, hyung?" Changbin asks when he catches sight of Minho's unfocused eyes.

Minho offers him a dry smile. "I'm going to go see Jeongin." He pauses. "How's Seungmin?"

Changbin frowns. "Working himself to the bone on the Yang case. I was trying to make him stop, but I think it distracts him from the pain..." He huffs. "In any case, I swear he'd try and bite my fingers off if I tried to take his laptop away. And it's not even his, it's mine!" Changbin shrugs and steps closer to him. "He mentioned something about clearing your name."

Minho nods slowly. “And you..? How’s your side?” He frowns, his gaze darkening. He had been the cause of the rather vicious cut on the man’s side. Although it was nothing critical, it was still a notable wound, and Minho himself had been the cause of it despite his preachings of wishing no harm to them. He bites his lip.

“It’s fine,” Changbin assures, patting his ribs with a dismissive smile. “It wasn’t even that deep. Give it a few days and it’ll be good as new.” He cocks an eyebrow. “It’s nothing to be worried about—why, were you worried about me?”

Minho’s lips stretch into a lax smile. “You’re all cockroaches, it’s almost impossible to get rid of you,” he remarks, less of a playful bite in his voice than he would’ve liked. 

The man rolls his eyes, pats Minho’s shoulder and strides past him towards the wing where Chan rested, leaving Minho standing stunned with a horrible, slithering sensation of guilt coiling over his skin. He’d have to go visit Seungmin, but he had intended on seeing Jeongin first, and so that’s precisely what he does.

Pulling back the curtain, he stands beside the bed and glances down at the younger who, after a few moments, lifts his head from the book in his hands to meet Minho’s eyes. Bruises line his fragile skin, but to Minho’s relief, there didn’t seem to be any serious injury. His lips curl into a smile and he sits down beside Jeongin’s bed, propping his arms on the frame and eyeing the younger. “Hey, cutie, did you have your operation yet?”

“Yeah.” Jeongin nods and lets out a slow breath. “Different doctors took it. I told the paramedics about what happened before and some of the hospital staff were arrested…” he drifts off, guilt slipping into his gaze. 

Minho reaches up to rest a hand on his head. "No, don't feel bad about that," he hums. "You did good. If those doctors were doing things like that to you, they may have been doing it to other people too. You may have saved lives, Jeonginnie." Minho leans forward to bump foreheads with the younger. "Don't feel bad for doing what was right."

Closing his eyes, Minho just keeps the man close to him, sudden relief washing over his body. There was no one to harm him now. That was right. They were all alive and they were all safe now, despite the casualties. Which meant that he had succeeded. He opens his eyes and shifts back to eye Jeongin carefully.

"Hyung, I hurt people," Jeongin murmurs, dropping his book and gripping Minho's hands in his own shaking, bony fingers. "I held a knife and I hurt people with it—" his gaze glosses over. "I hurt people who have families that they need to take care of, hyung!"

Minho winces as Jeongin's fingers dig past his skin. He frowns. "Jeongin, you may have saved a lot of other people because of what you did. You saved Chan and Changbin and Jisung." Minho cups the man's head in his hands, Jeongin's own hands sliding to rest on his wrists. "If you hadn't done anything, none of you might be alive right now." Minho's gaze hardens. "Remember that."

The younger's hands tighten around his wrists for a few moments before falling slack with resignation. "I don't know what to do, hyung. I thought I was safe with mum but she—" Minho scowls, and Jeongin flinches. "Dad's gone...but hyung he was acting weird when he saw you, I don't know…" Jeongin shifts away and buries his head in his hands. "I'm so confused," he admits softly.

"I can't say that I'm not either," Minho concurs with a frown. 

"And when the news gets out, Yang Enterprises will lose all its credibility, hyung!" Jeongin continues, a tremor running through his voice. "The company and its workers are all innocent people! Our business partners won't want to be associated with us any more—our stockholders will stop investing in us! Hyung, if we get sued by people who were waiting to eat us from the inside, who's going to be able to plead for a criminal family?"

Minho winces. He rests his hands on top of Jeongin's and squeezes gently. "It's not your fault," he states firmly. "What happened to our family isn't your fault. His brow creases. "To be honest, at the moment there's nothing we can do and all of that is just the worst-case scenario." He falls silent. Jeongin shouldn't have had to worry about such matters—the man had only the innocent goal of becoming a teacher. Jeongin was not a businessman. Having such sudden and heavy responsibilities falling onto his shoulders was a cruel burden. 

"Hyung, we could lose everything!" Jeongin exclaims. Minho quickly reached to rest a finger on his lips, silencing him before he can fall into a panic.

"We'll cross that hurdle when we get there," he insists gently. "Hyung will be there to help you." Whether that was the truth or not, Minho wasn't even sure—his body had been awfully inconsistent as of late, although he could still maintain a fairly strong image. But if he had to, he would fight to stay by the side of the people who needed him most.

Jeongin may have seen through his reassurance, but the younger only offers him an unsure, lopsided smile. "...you still owe me a trip to the convenience store, hyung."

"That's our first destination as soon as you're well enough, cutie," Minho assures him, tousling his hair.

* * *

"...."

Jisung fidgets uncomfortably in his chair, eyes darting from the sleeping woman in the bed beside him to the man in the next one. The man is watching him silently, and Jisung's brow knits. Pointedly avoiding the gaze, Jisung turns his head away awkwardly, staring blankly out of the hospital window and wondering if it'd make a decent escape route. Probably not, considering they were on the fourth floor. Dark bags under his eyes speak of a restless sleep and his skin was at least three times paler than it should be. 

He isn't alone in the private room; at his side is Felix, fidgeting just as awkwardly, and behind them stands Felix's parents, the people whom Jisung had called mum and dad for the longest time. Jisung steals a glance at Felix only to find the freckled blonde eyeing him worriedly. He can't even bear to offer Felix a smile of reassurance. 

"Mr. Han, I believe it's time you give Jisung the explanation he deserves," Mrs. Lee states calmly, arms crossed over her chest and voice calm and firm.

"Before I say anything else, I want to know how you could let him fall into a situation like that," the man demands his voice steady, yet dripping with a betrayed indignation. "My wife and I trusted you two with him. You were supposed to ensure that things like what happened last night would never happen to him!"

Before Mrs. Lee can say a word in response, Jisung's gaze flickers over to the man whose face he only recalled vaguely. "I'm right here! Don't any of you dare talk over me—" he cuts himself off and bows his head. "Just...have your argument after you all explain to me what this is all about." His eyes narrow. "I thought you and mum abandoned me!"

The man turns to eye Jisung with surprise in his gaze as though he had only just realized that Jisung was there. An oddly soft look enters his eyes before dissipating just as quickly as it had come. “We did what we needed to do to keep you safe, Jisung. You don’t have to forgive us if you don’t want to. All we wanted was for you to be safe and alive.” 

“I thought you didn’t want me this entire time!” Jisung exclaims. “And now you show up, and you were working for Black Tiger? Why would you do that?! Don’t you know what they do?!” Jisung leaps to his feet, only to feel a hand clasp around his wrist. He glances down to find Felix peering up at him with a look that begged him to calm down. They were, after all, in a hospital setting. Private room or not, there was only so much anger he could release before he was kicked out.

“Jisung,” Mr. Lee calls out sternly. “Give him the chance to explain. The more questions you ask, the less answers you’ll get.” 

Grudgingly, Jisung sits down once again, averting his eyes from the bedridden man. “Fine. But this better be good.” 

“...I honestly agree,” Felix pipes up morosely. “Sungie’s the best brother I could have ever had, and I’m glad that he’s part of my family, but…” the blonde’s eyes trail over to the man on the bed and he frowns. “Why’d he have to lose his own family?”

“It wasn’t an easy choice,” Mr. Han responds, his hand curling into a loose fist. “Jisung is our son. We love him more than anything else.” He frowns. “Before Jisung was born, we had decided to move to Korea to raise him here. We fell into a housing scam and ended up in large debt that we couldn’t pay. We lost our case in court when we tried to sue and lost even more money. At this point my wife was almost due and we were going to lose our home. We were desperate, so we loaned money from Black Tiger promising that we would pay it back.”

“...and you couldn’t. So you let them take me,” Jisung cuts in.

“Jisung!” Mrs. Lee interjects sharply. 

He breathes out a sigh and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sorry.” When he fixes his gaze on his biological father once again, the man looked rather pale and although it was evident that he was attempting to show nothing, flickers of guilt burned like candlelight in his eyes. Jisung grimaces.

“When you were born, we didn’t want to work ourselves to the bone and not give you the affection you needed. In our case that was our...fourth mistake. We were contacted by Black Tiger and told that, should we be unable to pay back our debt within the allotted time, with interest, they would hurt our family. I was the one that insisted we give you up because it was our safest option. I was the one that abandoned you, Jisung. Because I was a coward.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen. He had been expecting the confession all along, but to hear it directly was like having ice cold water hurled into his face. Unbidden, a coil of bitterness arises in his gut, slithering around like a snake and making his face grow hot with anger. He lowers his head to hide his face. “Oh.” The word leaves his lips unbidden, his tongue unable to articulate the feelings of disappointment and indignation. 

“If that’s all you have to say, then Jisung doesn’t need to face you at all!” Jisung glances up in surprise as he finds Felix on his feet, fists clenched so tightly by his sides that his knuckles blanched white, his eyes narrowed and a shocking vexation blazing in his eyes. “If that’s all you really think of him!”

“It looks like you’re doing a terrible job of explaining yourself,” Mrs. Lee sighs, rubbing her temples. “Let me take it from here. Felix, sit down. Jisung, look at me.” When their attention is gathered to her, she speaks. “Your mother, Mrs. Han, was my good friend. I've known her since our college days. We kept in touch even when she moved to Malaysia to get married. So when she told me of her predicament, of course I tried what I could to help. I was on maternity leave with Felix and I had time on my hands. I told her that I could lend her money, but she refused."

Jisung's lips purse into a thin line, his eyes wide and intent on the woman. He doesn't make any attempt at interrupting her. 

"She only told me what she and her husband had done after the deed was signed. She isn't a person who is easily frightened, but she sounded scared. And then I never heard from her for a while. I assumed she needed time to herself. The next time I heard from her, it was when a missing persons report was filed for you, Jisung."

From beside him, Jisung hears a sharp inhale draw itself through Felix's lips. He glances over at the younger to find his eyes glassy and his face blank. Jisung himself felt oddly hollow. Constraining his frustrations left him feeling exhausted and processing all this information at once was not a help.

"I immediately contacted her and she asked to meet me in person. After my shift I went to see her and she just cried for a good five minutes. She blamed herself and her mistakes." Mrs. Lee's eyes narrow at the man on the bed. "She said it was her fault for not disagreeing with you more." A sigh passes her lips as her gaze falls on Jisung once more. "Anyway, skip a few years and suddenly you're found at a hospital. Being mentioned in a missing persons case, of course I recognized you immediately. I told your mother and father."

"And they decided they didn't want me any more?" Jisung grunts monotonously.

"Jisung," she interjects with a stern tone. 

He sighs. "Yeah, sorry, mum."

"Your mother told me that they would offer their services to Black Tiger in exchange for your life. As long as they were loyal, Black Tiger wouldn't lay a hand on you. I disagreed with her, but she had made up her mind, and your father had decided to follow her. Before she virtually disappeared she told me to take care of you and raise you. She said that you and my little boy would make a good pair of brothers." Mrs. Lee smiles faintly. "I have to say, she wasn't wrong."

"That...doesn't change the fact that they left me," Jisung mumbles his eyes narrowing as he rises to his feet. "I know I sound like a selfish brat right now but I don't care." He looks from one face to the next. "That doesn't change the fact that I thought they didn't want me! And you never told me about them even when I grew up!"

"Jisung, this is more than a family matter," Mr. Lee finally speaks, his voice rumbling calmly. "This is a legal matter as well. They joined hands with a criminal organization. As soon as they are well enough, they will be taken to court. Not to mention the connections between the Yang family and Black Tiger were a national secret being investigated by the organized crime unit. Not only did we not want you to relive your trauma, but telling you in itself would be breaking the law." 

"And now you have no choice," Jisung mutters. "I just—" he sighs harshly and trudges past them. "I need to think."

Pulling back the door, he strides out into the hallway and promptly sinks down onto the linoleum back flat against the wall and head in his hands. He doesn't budge an inch, wishing that the floor could just crack open and swallow him—pull him out of this overwhelming sea of newfound intentions and perspectives. Those people were his parents, but he didn't feel that way. He didn't know them. And while a fragment of him wanted to, more of him wanted to avoid them at all costs, pretend he had never known anything at all.

Even when the hinges of the door creak beside him and muted footsteps circle him, he doesn’t life his head. Warmth radiates at his side as someone sits down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close, and Jisung would recognize Felix’s hugs anywhere. The blistered arms were a hint too, but Jisung didn’t want to think about that at the moment. Naturally, as he would do when upset, he buries his face In Felix’s shoulder and curls as close to him as possible, as though it would make all the problems just melt away. Of course they wouldn’t, but it was better than trying to fend them off alone. Felix did give the best hugs too.

“I...really didn’t know, Sungie, I swear,” Felix mumbles.

A sigh elicits from Jisung’s throat and he nods slightly. “I know you didn’t, Lixie. It’s not your fault. It’s…” He drifts off, lifting his head. His eyes narrow slightly. “Let’s not stay here,” he mumbles. “We’re in the hospital.” He sighs once more, a resigned, exhausted sound. “I’m going to the courtyard. Need some fresh air.” 

“I’ll come with!” Felix insists as he pushes himself to his feet. Jisung stares up at him blankly before shrugging and nodding.

Everything seemed to pass by in a blur, leaving Jisung spiralling in its wake, disoriented and too perplexed to understand what was going on. When he settles down in the grassy courtyard, one leg kicked up on the bench and hugged to his chest, the other hanging lax, he just stares silently at the ground as though it would suddenly sprout eyes and a mouth and tell him to get his act together.

Of course if it did do that, Felix would probably have him put in the hospital, but at this point nothing could surprise Jisung any more.

“Lixie, how am I supposed to react?” Jisung mumbles. “I know it’s not completely my parents’ fault, but I just can’t forgive them!” Jisung scowls. “I can’t. If I do I’ll still feel resentful. Am I really just a terrible person?”

“Aren’t we all terrible people?” Felix points out, and Jisung just eyes him, deadpan. 

“No, Lixie, you’re the most annoying angel I’ve ever met.” 

Felix snorts and elbows him in the ribs, causing Jisung to yelp at the sharp pain and Felix to wince at the agitation of his blistered arms. “Shut up, Jisungie. You can’t just walk away from something like this like nothing happened. No one’s gonna blame you for not being able to forgive them. It doesn’t make you a terrible person.” 

Jisung rests his cheek on his knee and gazes at the wall of the hospital, his eyes drifting past the windows and to the bustling activities within. “We got Mrs. Yang and we got an entire sector of Black Tiger, Lixie. All of us are alive, even if we’re a bit beaten up…” he drifts off.

_But why does it feel like we’ve lost?_

“Obviously we still have a lot to do. That was one part of this. Now we have to deal with the repercussions, the legal matters, the court...we haven’t won all our battles yet.” 

Both Felix and Jisung lift their heads to eye Minho, who stares down at them firmly, his arms loosely crossed over his chest and his eyebrow raised. Jisung nearly balks over in surprise, partially from the extent of his detachment that had blinded his senses to Minho’s advent, partially from the fact that the man’s words seemed to answer the question that he hadn’t even mentioned aloud.

“So don’t think you have the time to be moping around,” Minho states coolly. “There’s work to do.” 

Despite himself, for the second time since last night, Jisung feels a grudging smile pull its way unbidden onto his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the uneventfulness, but after everything the boys deserve some rest  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read and I hope you enjoyed~  
> Until next time <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers, I sincerely apologize for the slightly late update! It's been an awfully busy week.  
> Thank you all kindly for continuing to support me and this fic, it's always, always appreciated <3  
> Nothing much else to say, so let's go~

Whorls of smoke race after him in coiling, angry tendrils that wrap around his body and tear through his skin, destroying the gentle peach hue and revealing grotesque, bubbling red in its place as Seungmin screams, his voice echoing through a deathly silent forest with not a soul to hear the babbled pleads eliciting from cracked, bleeding lips. It pushes past his lips, snakes down into his lungs, sets him alight and eats at him as though it wanted to devour his existence itself and _god_ it hurt, it hurt so bad…

Dragging himself on his knees towards an exit that didn’t exist, his wide eyes reflect the malevolent flames that tower into the black sky, walling him away from any hope of escape, cornering him, and drawing closer with every agonized, polluted breath he drew into his lungs. He scrambles back, away, not that it would do any good. His scorched fingers hook around something and he hefts himself back onto a pile of something that was painfully hard, yet provided some relief to his burnt skin.

When he glances down, another scream of fright rips itself from his throat unbidden as he finds himself resting on bones, not gleaming white but scavenger-eaten, rotting and encroached by mildew. He releases the grinning skull that mocked him silently past the roaring of the flames that drew ever closer and heaves out a sob. Gripping his upper arms to himself as a futile last-defence, he closes his eyes and prays a selfish prayer for death to come quickly if it meant this nightmare could end.

There was nothing and no one but the strangulating gyres of smoke that wrapped around his neck and the flames that left his skin blackened and bleeding in its malicious descent. The roaring in his ears descends into a terrible, growling white noise which sharpens and augments until it’s an unbearable ringing. His body feels suddenly frigid, and not the comforting kind of ice on a burn but a coldness that belonged exclusively to corpses, and Seungmin’s lips part as he fights for just one more breath.

Gasping, he snaps awake in a cold sweat, eye wide open and body trembling, skin stinging and grafts itching terribly. He could still feel the burning smoke in his lungs and he coughs, hacks in his feeble attempts to rid himself of the phantom sensation that shouldn’t be there any more, hot, frightened tears spilling over his mutilated cheek under the secrecy of night. Never had he been so glad that the people around him slept like the dead—perhaps because some of them were only a few steps away from death’s door to begin with.

Seungmin’s heart pounds against his ribcage as though threatening to break his bones with its vehemence, and he reaches up, fingers spasming as he grips the chest of his teal hospital gown, resisting the urge to claw at his regrafted skin. His pants turn into heaving, painful breaths, chest rising and falling like tumultuous waves. He buries his head in his hands, ashamed as more tears spill down his face, not wanting even the moon to see him.

The incident was long gone. There were no fires in this place—it was safe here. There wasn’t so much as a hint of smoke in the area. Seungmin grips the remains of his hair that was beginning to grow back past the blistered skin. And yet he couldn't chase away the feeling that just around the corner there would be a vicious claw of flame that wanted to tear into him, and the very thought of it terrified him to the point where breaths were difficult to grasp.

He sobs into his hands, wincing as salty tears creep over sensitive skin. It was pathetic, but he was scared. Scared of something that he was well aware didn't exist, and he despised the feeling. Everything tingled with an unpleasant burning sensation and he swears that he really could smell smoke, but no matter how much his distrustful eyes dart from one area of the wing to the other, there was no flame to be found. 

Seungmin hugs his knees to his chest and hides his face in them despite the discomfort that the action caused. By all definitions of his body, he should barely be moving, but being so spread out on a hospital bed left him feeling incredibly vulnerable and he hated every moment of it. 

Throughout the remainder of the night, he can’t bring himself to sleep once more for fear of being strangled by the nonexistent fires and having his skin flayed to the muscle again. When morning rides around, he’s seated in the bed, plastered with an unsavoury sheen of sweat and with a dark bag under his one functioning eye.

It had been a few days since Mrs. Yang and the underlings that had the misfortune of being present at that time had been indicted, and Seungmin knows for certain that at least the first hearing would have been conducted. He himself was the one who had arranged for his professors, trustworthy and venerable lawyers, to tackle the case since he himself had no authority to do such things as a student.

They had all concluded that Minho could not make an appearance at court—his presence would raise too many questions, incite too many skeptics, pique at too many people who were well aware that the eldest son of the Yang family was dead. Fortunately for them, Jisung and Felix’s parents had, albeit grudgingly, sympathized with the unusual circumstance. It did, however, leave them with the dilemma of rectifying the misconception of Minho’s death: Minho deemed it unnecessary, but Seungmin did not, and he knew for certain that more than a few of their friends agreed.

The evidence to have Mrs. Yang under multiple life sentences was overwhelming, and Seungmin found that the least of his worries at the moment. He had done his job; Hyunjin had helped him accumulate the evidence and it had been safely delivered to the appropriate parties. It was only a matter of judicial action. He had insisted that Jisung keep him up to date on the happenings, since he himself was unfit to attend the hearings.

However, the matter of the Yang inheritance and the damage that had been done to Yang Enterprises when the news of its chairman’s involvement with the criminal underworld rose to the surface was irredeemable. Although it was technically none of Seungmin’s business, he could see that Jeongin was under terrible amounts of stress that he shouldn’t have to be. Even if it was partially to distract himself from his own predicament, Seungmin wanted to help in any way that he could.

Later in the day when he's back on Changbin's laptop reviewing his knowledge of the case, trudging footsteps cause him to raise his head and then his eyebrows as a troubled Jisung sinks down into the chair by his bed. The man looks exhausted, bags under his eyes, hair disheveled and suit unbuttoned and rumpled. Seungmin's lips purse. "Well don't we look like the pinnacle of cheer," he sighs, his fingers slowing to a rest on the keyboard. "What's up, Sungie?"

"You love me," Jisung huffs, a glimmer of amusement slipping into his eyes before fading perhaps faster than it had come. "Things don't look too great for Mrs. Yang. They had Jeongin and I do some medical testing for evidential purposes like they don't have enough proof already…" he rolls his eyes. "She denies her charge of filicide, and there's not much we can do about it." His eyes narrow with frustration. "My testimony is being excused for me being mentally unstable, Min. Like they can't believe me because I'm so 'traumatized' that I'm making things up now. Because Minho's clearly been dead for twenty years."

"And…?" Seungmin presses, sensing the pregnant pause. Something didn't bide well with him. 

Jisung rakes his fingers through his hair. "I'm fine, Min. I can think clearly. And when I said that, her attorney said I had no excuse to be telling blatant lies. They're filing a defendant's claim to sue me for defamation." 

Seungmin's eyes widen and he tenses only to wince sharply. "What the hell, Sung!" Seungmin yelps. "Getting countersued wasn't part of the plan!" His mind whirls. This wasn't good. They had next to no evidence that could rectify the cause of Minho's death since the fire had destroyed the lodge and with it, Minho's remains, and Minho himself could not appear in court. "This isn't good. Legally, she has every right to countersue you.. We need to find you a lawyer and some solid evidence...we should have never brought up the filicide. There were no witnesses because of where it happened and they aren't going to trust you on your word alone—"

"Tell me something I don't know, Min!" Jisung exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. "We both know that she was the one that had Minho murdered and she isn’t admitting it! What difference would it make anyway? She already killed Mr. Yang and she ruined Jeongin’s body. Why won’t she just admit that she had Minho killed too?!”

Seungmin remains silent, his gaze dropping to the screen of his laptop where folders of his files were kept neatly—alphabetically organized too. “I don’t know…” he mutters. “But you know, you really would have sounded crazy saying that.” 

“I know,” Jisung groans, messing with his hair. “I know I do. I’m losing touch with time, Seungmin—Minho is here but he’s not supposed to be...he was supposed to be dead when I was three. But now it’s almost like he’s still alive and I’m mixing things up—I’m forgetting he’s dead just because I can still see him and—” Seungmin reaches out to pinch Jisung’s shoulder, prompting a flinch from the man. “Ow! What the hell was that for?!”

"You're going and losing your head again," Seungmin admonishes. "You're rambling."

Jisung stares at Seungmin, his eyes slightly glassier than they should be. "Min, I don't care about the countersuing. I just want—"

"You want to right the mistake that happened back then. I know," Seungmin sighs.

Jisung nods."And...I dunno, Minnie. I—can tell he's disappearing. Really slowly, but he is." Jisung's eyes narrow. "We already caught Mrs. Yang, but he's still here. It means he hasn't done what he needs to for him to pass on and…" 

Seungmin's gaze softens slightly at the sight of Jisung's hesitance. "And..?" He urges.

"And I'm scared he's gonna just disappear," Jisung grudgingly bites out, averting his eyes from Seungmin. "He's just going to stop existing. Like he never existed at all." Jisung sighs and rests his head in his hand. "I sound stupid."

"You always sound stupid," Seungmin interjects. "At least this time you can sound stupid _and_ self-aware at the same time." He raises an eyebrow. "And since when did you care about what happens to Minho hyung anyway? It's not like the two of you have been on the best of terms."

Jisung's lips part for a biting retort only for him to realize that Seungmin was right. He had no reason to worry about what happened to Minho. There wasn't anything particularly special between them except that one time they had kissed and Jisung feverishly screaming a less-than-romantic, unintentional confession in front of Minho's father before the man had been shot by his wife. Jisung winces. It almost sounded like a rejected plot of some crack novel. "...you're right," he mutters. "Maybe I'm just trying to find a distraction. From...the whole finding my parents and bloodbath thing." He purses his lips, suddenly feeling inexplicably tired. "Guess I chose the wrong distraction, huh?"

The younger of the pair sighs. "Look, Sung, this isn't good, but we can't freak out about it. We'll figure it out. We've come this far, haven't we?"

Jisung offers him a lopsided smile. "How do you do it? You're being so positive it's scary. You're scary."

"This is what I get for trying to be encouraging, huh. Guess I've learned my lesson," Seungmin deadpans. He frowns. "How's Innie recovering? Chan hyung? They haven't let me go see anyone. Hyunjin still sneaks out to come help me with things though."

"If anyone thinks they can get Hyunjin to listen to them, they're either delusional or Woojin hyung," Jisung snorts. "I haven't seen any of them yet today. I came to tell you about the pretrial first because I know you'd probably yell at me if I waited. Lix's gone to see Innie and Woojin hyung's probably checking in on Chan hyung."

"And you?" Seungmin hums. "What are you going to do?"

"Not sure. Barge in on Hyunjin and hope that he and Woojin hyung aren't deciding to get freaky or maybe just go see Jeongin."

Seungmin cocks an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure Woojin hyung is sensible enough to not do anything in a public place, especially not so soon after Hyunjin took a bullet, Sungie."

"Hey, you never know," Jisung huffs, pushing himself to his feet and loosening his tie. "But just to be safe, I think I'll go visit Jeonginnie first." He offers Seungmin a wry grin. "I guess no one's letting you get out of bed so at least you're gonna get more rest."

The younger of the pair shakes his head firmly. "Not now. We have your case to deal with and the whole matter with Mr. Yang's will too now that he's dead. This isn't any time to be resting."

The mirth disappears from Jisung's gaze and he frowns. "Min…"

Seungmin's gaze falters. "Let me have this much, Jisung," he murmurs. 

After a few moments of silence, Jisung just sighs resignedly, his shoulders slumping with a sudden wave of guilt as it dawns on him that Seungmin was seeking a distraction just as desperately as he himself was. Him from his emotional turmoil, and Seungmin from his physical pain. Working his problems away was only a coping mechanism for the younger, and at this point Jisung had no right to strip that away from him. Jisung finally offers a tentative nod. "Don't overdo it though, okay?" 

Neither of the pair have a chance to give or receive any responses as Jisung pads his way out of the wing, leaving Seungmin to his own mind, which was reeling with disorientation from the unwanted wealth of information that had been veritably dumped on him. There was so much to do and so little time, but Seungmin found comfort in the incessant whirl of tasks and responsibilities. Regardless of subject, it was one thing that he could rely on to remain constant. 

He sighs, his fingers spasming as he shifts to open up the laptop once again. His eye was beginning to irritate him again, and he resists the urge to claw at the deadened skin. It would fall off in time. As he scans through his files, his mind drifts off to possibilities, worst-case scenarios, generally every inopportune transpiration, and he frowns, sweat accumulating on his palms. 

He rummages through his writeups with narrowed eyes, wishing that he had physical copies on hand. The feeling of paper against his fingertips was a welcome one, and not having the tangible evidence of his work-fever caused an inexplicable unease to creep on him, as though everything that he was working for would crumble into nothing with the click of a button. He didn't understand why he felt so anxious; challenges piqued at his ambition—they didn't frighten him.

It's not the uneven gait that bears down on the linoleum hospital floor, nor is it the creaking of the chair by his bed that finally pulls Seungmin's attention from the screen of his laptop, but the sudden sensation of warmth that felt so familiar despite the fact that the individual in question had not yet spoken so much as a word. Seungmin frowns, his eyes taking a moment to focus on the face beside him, but when he finally orients himself, his eyes widen. "Chan hyung?! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be recovering! At..the other end of the building!"

Chan's skin indents with his dimpled smile as he pats the crutches beside himself. "I'm going to be discharged soon. Fortunately for me the bullet only damaged muscle and didn't break any bones like it did for Hyunjin…" he drifts off, a sudden darkness clouding his gaze before fading as quickly as it had come. "I just have to be careful with my leg and I'll be fine. My arm was only grazed so it shouldn't take too long to heal."

Seungmin's eyes crinkle with dismay as his lips curve into a frown. "Hyung…"

"Baby, I'm fine," Chan assures. He smiles. "You know what they say, 'tis but a scratch and all that."

"You seem to be forgetting that the person who said that died afterwards," Seungmin deadpans, a severely unimpressed look clouding his eyes. "Just...take care. I should've known better than to hope no one would get hurt but…" The blonde's eyes soften and when Seungmin catches his gaze, he can't help but feel the sudden urge to look away, well aware that his unsightly, disfigured face must be making Chan uncomfortable. And yet the man was still willing to look at him like that. Seungmin turns his head away. "I was naive."

A warm hand resting over his own draws Seungmin's furtive attention back to Chan. "Hey, Minnie," Chan hums, squeezing his hand gently. "You just wanted us to be safe. And in the end... we're all alive. Isn't that what matters?" The blonde raises Seungmin's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles in a tender gesture. "Wishful thinking isn't like you."

"Maybe you've all gone and made a dreamer out of me," Seungmin remarks dryly, fighting down the warmth that pooled at his cheeks. "I'm wishing a lot lately." He finally gathers himself enough to meet Chan's eyes, his fingers curling around the blonde's hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for all of you."

Chan's eyes widen incredulously at the claim. "Seungmin, you found out about Minho before any of us did. You ran into a burning building to save something that was important to Jisung. You gathered all this data and you even got lawyers for this case. You've been working incredibly hard, what makes you think you haven't done so much for all of us already?"

Seungmin's eyes narrow and his hand falls from Chan's grip. "You know what I mean! I got myself stupidly injured and now I can't even leave this room. I can't actually get up and help all of you. I can't be there. And...I ruined myself, hyung. I know you have a hard time looking at me now. I can't be mobile and I can't even be looked at without inconveniencing someone!" His gaze turns glossy. 

"That's not true!" Chan interjects sharply, his voice stern and reprimanding. "You've done more than be here for us, you've been fighting the hardest for our sakes. None of this had anything to do with you. You could've just left it alone because it wasn't your problem, but you've done so much to help everyone in every way you could. Even at the cost of yourself." Chan's tone softens and he takes Seungmin's hand, clasping it within both of his own. "And what do you mean I have a hard time looking at you?" He asks gently. "You don't see what I do, Minnie. You're beautiful."

Seungmin's eye wells, but he blinks away the glassiness. "Even like this, hyung?" He asks, a hopeless tone slipping into his voice. "Even like this?" His fingernails dig slightly into Chan's skin as his gaze drops to his lap with the weight of shame. "You'd still look at me, even like this?"

Seungmin winces slightly as he feels a pair of hands take his head and lift it until he's forced to meet Chan's gaze. "Baby, you accepted me, even like this," he hums, his gaze darting to the sleeve of his shirt where the tendrils of black ink peeked out from beneath the bandages on his upper arm. "It was so hard for me to believe that anyone could actually love someone like me. Sometimes I still can't believe it. But you've proven me wrong again and again. You still choose to be with me, even like this."

"That's because you're not as awful as you think you are," Seungmin insists firmly, not a shadow of hesitation in his voice. "You didn't have a choice. You needed to support your family. You did what you had to to take care of your family." He frowns. "I'll judge you based on what I think of you now, not what you did before."

Scuffing his foot against the linoleum floor and planting it flat as he leans forward in his chair, Chan brushes Seungmin's uninjured cheek with his thumb. "Then why can't it be the same for you, Minnie?" He asks gently. "Why wouldn't I love you the same even like this? Why wouldn't I still find you beautiful? Why wouldn't I want to look at you?" Chan's fingers shift to ruffle Seungmin's hair gently, minding the tender skin where his hair had been singed off. "You're not bleeding, Minnie. And you couldn't possibly look anything but beautiful to me."

Perhaps it had been a hidden vanity that had driven Seungmin to not dare look at his own face, and believe that Chan or anyone else for that matter wouldn't want to either. The assumption was rather blatantly slapped in the face, leaving him speechless, although in hindsight, there was no reason for it. He stares at Chan in silence.

After a few long moments, Chan finally tilts his head. "Earth to Minnie? Are you there?" He teases, not unkindly.

Seungmin jolts forward, somewhat unsteadily, and Chan's arms reflexively rise to catch him lest he fall awkwardly and hurt himself on the bedframe. He spares the blonde a bright smile and leans over to steal a kiss. "Hey, hyung?" he hums as he pulls back just enough to meet Chan's eyes.

"Hm..?"

"I'm proud of you. I'm grateful for you. I love you. Okay?" Seungmin shifts just a little closer, his lips barely touching Chan's. In turn the blonde relaxes and wraps a supportive arm around him. It's a bit of an awkward position, with Chan unable to stand because of his wounded leg and Seungmin needing to tolerate the discomfort of his grafts, but it was enough.

Chan laughs softly, the sound muffled by the curtain that gave them the sparse privacy they had in the wing. "Let me repeat that," he hums. "I'm proud of you. I'm grateful for you. And I love you too, baby." His lips purse wryly. "I'm sorry this isn't exactly the picture-perfect place to be all romantic—" Seungmin tenses in his arms, and immediately concern flutters into Chan's eyes. "Seungmin? Are you all r—"

"Picture! That's it!" Seungmin exclaims, his eyes widening. "Hyung, you're a genius!"

* * *

"Hey, what are you guys doing here? I thought you'd be in the recovery wing," Jisung pants, slowing to a stop at the courtyard and resting his palms on his knees as he catches his breath. He frowns petulantly. "I ran all the way from there." Despite his indignant words, he can't help but feel a relieved warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of the three, washed in the muted sunlight that professed rain and settled comfortably in the relatively empty area surrounded by carefully maintained greenery and cement walkways.

Jeongin and Felix glance over at him from where they sit on a bench, fingers tightly laced together, while Minho cocks an eyebrow at him from his perch by a tree. A plastic bag is looped around the older man's arm, hanging from the crook of his elbow, and a half-eaten pepero stick protrudes from Jeongin's lips. 

"Jeongin got discharged today," Felix chirps, a glimmer in his eyes that Jisung hadn't seen for days shining brightly. "He needs to take it easy, but they said he's good to leave." Felix's smile dims somewhat. "We're just catching a bit of privacy before he gets mobbed by the press and the legal system and everything and everyone else…" He frowns. "Minho hyung went to the convenience store and got us snacks."

“Sweet.” Jisung holds out his arms and makes grabby hands. “I want some. After everything I think I deserve it.” 

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Minho nonetheless reaches into the plastic bag and lobs a wrapped triangle kimbap at him. "You're going to eat something more substantial than that," he insists, his voice somewhat sharp. "If you don't look at the top of your game after that trial, they're going to sell you off as being mad as a March hare."

Sullenly, Jisung pulls the plastic off of the kimbap and bites into it, stuffing his cheeks. "Well _excuse me_ for wanting the truth to come out," he huffs, taking the appearance of an annoyed rabbit as he chews his food. He catches Felix hiding a grin behind his hand and he mock-glares at the freckled blonde. "What are you smiling at?!"

"You're funny when you do stupid things because you care about us," Jeongin answers bluntly on behalf of Felix. "Lix gave me all the updates."

"Maybe I should care a little less about all of you then," Jisung huffs, pouting. "You're all mean to me." He shoves the remainder of the triangle kimbap into his mouth and chews with a displeased mask on his features.

There's an odd look in Minho's eyes, but when Jisung blinks it’s gone, convincing him that it must just be the light. Minho turns to eye Jeongin appraisingly before glancing back at Jisung. “Jeongin is scheduled for a meeting with our father’s attorney this evening to discuss the contents of his last will and testament. I’ll be going with him—”

“Hyung, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Felix suddenly interjects, his voice perfectly steady. Both Jisung and Minho turn to eye him, Minho with a slightly affronted glint in his eyes, and Jisung with confusion. 

“Why not?” they both manage to get out in unison.

Felix blinks owlishly before removing his hand from Jeongin’s and sitting up just a little straighter on the bench. “If they’re your father’s attorney, then they’ll definitely know who you are. And you being there with everything that’s going on is just going to be...complicated.” he drifts off. “Once Jeongin sees it and it's filed, we can get a copy for you to see if you really want to.” He pauses. “Point is, you shouldn’t go. I’ll go with him.” 

Jisung cocks an eyebrow. “Since when did you know so much about this?”

A look of consternation clouds Felix's eyes for a brief moment. He purses his lips. "Well… Seungmin talked me through some of it when I asked him." He stands and stretches his arms over his head with a groan. "That...and I've been thinking about some things. Jeongin needs all the support he can get, so." Something about the borderline nonchalance in the blonde's voice rubs Jisung the wrong way, but he opts to push aside his misgivings for the time being. Felix offers him a lax grin. "Anyway, I think we'll head out. Hopefully no one's gonna mob a recently discharged patient."

"Gee, must be nice being a celebrity," Jisung huffs sarcastically, a glimmer of worry slipping into his gaze as he watches them walk off. It takes him a few delayed moments to realize that they had ditched him, and now he was alone in the courtyard with Minho and a bag of convenience store snacks. Which wouldn't have been so bad if there hadn't been friction between them since the escapade to rescue Jeongin and Hyunjin.

Jisung shifts his weight awkwardly from one leg to the other and leans against the bench, his gaze darting away from Minho, peering at the hospital windows as though they were the most fascinating things in the vicinity. His hands grope around at the air as though trying to find something to do instead of just...hanging there. He kicks up a leg on the bench and leans against it with a sigh. 

"Jisung—"

The younger casts a fleeting glance on Minho before looking away awkwardly again. "Yeah, what?"

"Jisung." 

Jisung yelps as Minho somehow spans the proximity between them with ease, leaving only a few inches between them. He lifts his head to find himself staring directly into Minho's catlike eyes. “What happened to the personal space you love so much?” he exclaims, flustered at the sudden lack of distance between them. He catches himself as his cheeks redden and raises a hand to rest on Minho’s chest and push him away. “What game are you trying to pull?”

A strange, impregnable look clouds Minho’s gaze as he allows himself to be pushed away from Jisung. “You were saying a lot of strange things that night when we went to my family’s estate,” he states bluntly. His eyes narrow slightly before relaxing into something resigned. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t know whether you were being serious or just acting out of impulse...like you usually do—”

“Hey! I don’t _always_!” Jisung barks indignantly. The claim earns him a dubiously raised eyebrow and he purses his lips, his brow creasing. “Fine. Maybe I do a lot of the time but—” Before he can continue, Minho presses a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Whatever it meant to you, it meant something to me," Minho states. "I…like you, Lee Jisung.” Jisung pushes Minho’s hand away, his lips parting to form a sharp retort, but before he can so much as get a word in edgewise, Minho interjects. “And I know it’s the wrong time. I know I shouldn’t. It’s not fair to you if I just push it onto you and expect you to take it. But I just wanted you to know that...it’s real to me. I like you and I would have liked to maybe...pursue a relationship, but we both know that’s not possible. Not with me being like this,” he holds out his arms and glances down at his dimly glowing figure, “and you being alive.” The light in Minho’s eyes dulls slightly. “So just pretend that none of that happened, that’s fine by me.” 

Jisung stares at him blankly, taking the time to process the words that had left Minho’s lips as though they were some complex idea. His heart sinks into his gut as the words finally sink into his brain, form a cohesive, singular thought. A cold, ache seeps into his skin and through his muscle, making him flinch away from Minho, but is quickly replaced with a sensation of stinging ire. 

“What the hell, Minho!” Minho’s eyes widen at the outburst, but Jisung doesn’t give him the chance to react. “Stop deciding things for me! How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not responsible for me? I’m responsible for me!” Jisung raises a hand and prods Minho’s collar with an irascible finger. “I know you mean well, but—” he pauses and sighs, his shoulders drooping. “But Minho...can’t you let yourself have good things? Can’t you let me have good things? If you like me so much then why are you trying so damn hard to push me away?”

“Jisung, you can’t be sure you even feel _feelings_ for me,” Minho retorts. “Maybe you’re just stressed. Maybe you’re touch-deprived. Or worse yet, maybe you do like me and when I disappear you’re going to be left alone, and I…” 

Jisung scowls. “I’m not stupid. I know what this is. I know why this can’t happen. But hell, Minho—you’re annoying and I’d happily kick you off a cliff but...I’ve never met someone that would sacrifice so much for people he didn’t know. I’ve never met someone who would worry about me even after I treated them so awfully. And I sure as hell have never met anyone that made me feel the way you do.”

“And what is that feeling?” Minho presses, almost tentatively. A faintly snarky smile creeps over his lips. “The feeling of wanting to kick someone off a cliff?”

“Don’t think you’re special,” Jisung huffs. “I’d kick Changbin and Hyunjin off a cliff in a heartbeat.” He bumps Minho’s forehead with his own, a little harder than intended. Jisung winces and rubs his head. “But I like you, Minho. I...back when we were in the estate, you made me feel safe. You kept me on track. You didn’t have to, but you did. Even before that you were there. You were always there. And if you’re going to not be there any more, then I at least want to make the most of whatever we have left.”

Minho’s brow creases. “Jisung, we shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t what?” Jisung asks, a slight tremor racing through his voice as his gaze wavers. “Shouldn’t let you have the happiness you deserve after so long? Sure you’re a rich guy from a rich family, but you never had anything. Your mother was killed. Your father was busy with work. Your stepmother was the reason you died. Sure you had everything you could possibly want, but you didn’t have anything you wanted.” Before Jisung realizes it, tears well up in his round eyes, threatening to spill over his skin. “Is it really so bad to have something you want for once? Without having to worry about anyone else?”

“Jisung—”

“Don’t ‘Jisung’ me!” Jisung interrupts sharply, swiping stubbornly at his eyes. “Damn it, Minho, you’ve done so much for me, why won’t you let me do something for you?" He sniffles and scrabbles at his watering eyes as though it would stop the tears. "I know you're going to go, but I want you while you're still here! And I want you to want me too but you keep pushing me away like this!"

Head bowed to hide his pathetic, blotchy face, Jisung barely pays attention to Minho's movements, tensing when he feels a coldness seep into his skin and wrap around his frame. He lifts his head to find Minho's arms tightly wrapped around him, the man's face buried in his shoulder. After a few stunned moments, Jisung's arms rise to hold Minho in turn, embracing the familiar, comforting coolness. He buries his face in Minho's shoulder and closes his eyes. Yes, this was messed up and couldn't possibly last, but Jisung wanted to have it for as long as he could anyway.

"I really hate you, Lee Jisung," he hears Minho mumble against him and despite himself he can't help the smile that pulls itself onto his lips. 

"At least the feeling is mutual, Minho," he mutters back. 

A graceless snort is the response he receives for his troubles and Jisung only holds Minho just that little bit tighter until he feels the man's skin give way under him, his touches sinking in more than they should. The sudden loss of substance catches Jisung off guard and he releases Minho. "...we still haven't figured out what'll help you pass on," he vocalizes with a frown. "I...I need to find out what'll give you peace—I don't want you to disappear for good."

Minho's catlike eyes narrow slightly, his long lashes making them appear sharper than they actually were. "You've got enough on your plate without having to worry about that, Jisung. We have to get Jeongin’s mother behind bars. We have to fortify our family name in the business world and establish Jeongin’s before we’re eaten alive by competitors. We have to figure out how to prove your case to the court. And we have to fix up your house. You should worry about the living, not the dead.” 

Jisung snaps his mouth shut just as an argument lands on his tongue. As much as he hated to admit it, Minho had a point, but that one selfish part of Jisung wanted to ignore him anyway. His stomach twists uncomfortably with his own dilemma but he doesn’t say anything. Minho would just be all too eager to shoot him down once again, him and his stupid sacrificial nature. Jisung huffs. 

“Kiss me and I swear I _will_ demolish everything that tries to stop me from worrying about the living and the dead,” he challenges, his eyes narrowing. More so than a demand or a threat, it was a promise, and if there was anything that Jisung could be confident in, it was his unyielding stubbornness when he wanted to achieve anything. He’d be damned if he couldn’t help all of his friends and Minho after everything they had been through together, and he wanted Minho to want it too. 

At first, Minho stares at him blankly. A sudden and fierce smirk creeps over the man’s lips and he reaches out, fingers tangling through Jisung’s styled hair. Jisung’s heart leaps with anticipation and perhaps even sparks with obstinate hope as Minho’s lips crash vehemently against his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags promised minsung and so minsung there shall be~  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this, and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, and welcome to the next chapter!  
> Again, I'd like to thank all of you for the support throughout this story <3  
> Without further ado, let's go

Felix raises a hand and rests it on Jeongin’s shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, babe, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the malevolent aura that exuded from the looming, drab building before them. 

Ever since Jeongin and Chan had been discharged, it had been ceaseless work, watching their steps carefully, avoiding the media for all it was worth, and fighting for their own cause as much as their lawyers. But now, as they stood mere feet away from the truth, Felix could tell that Jeongin was apprehensive of so much as approaching the prison where Mrs. Yang was being held under custody until the series of trials were over. It was in the distracted glow in the younger's eyes, the almost perpetual frown on his lips, the dryness of his lips from where he would lick them nervously out of habit.

"We all have to do things we don't want to, right?" Jeongin counters, his voice firm despite his slightly pale visage and the uneasy shifting of his weight from one leg to the other. "I need to know what happened. I want to know everything...I deserve that much." His head hangs despite his words, his gaze pointedly averted from both the prison and Felix.

A pair of accommodating arms wrap around Jeongin, and he glances over at Felix only to be met with such genuine concern in his deep brown eyes and in the lines that creased them. Felix hadn't been resting well either, if the spots under his slightly red eyes said anything, and yet he still somehow felt concern for Jeongin. Notwithstanding their situation, an almost intrusive warmth creeps up his spine. Hands drifting up, his fingers curl over Felix's shoulders and his eyes soften slightly, easing the frightful deadpan on his features. "Don't worry so much, Lixie. If I can't even face this, then how am I supposed to face anything else? I have to do it for myself."

Felix's eyes crinkle with a familiar smile. "Still not sure how you do this, Innie. I know I wouldn't be able to."

"What do you mean? You're here right now, aren't you?" Jeongin huffs, grabbing Felix's hand and tugging him forward as he himself takes a decisive step. "You're...honestly doing too much," he murmurs as they enter. "I don't think I could ever do for you all that you're willing to do for me. And I'm sorry, Lix."

Jeongin yelps slightly as Felix suddenly stops in his tracks, inevitably jerking Jeongin back since they were still connected at the hand. He glances back to find the blonde's head bowed and eyes narrowed. "You know, you don't have to keep acting strong like that," Felix states, his voice dropping an octave. "You know I'm not leaving you alone what, especially not now. And you definitely don't owe me anything for it."

"Lix, I'm not having this argument now," Jeongin interjects sharply. "I know you won't leave and I'm grateful, really—but you need to start thinking realistically..." he drifts off, his gaze growing distant. Shaking his hand, he tightens his grip around Felix's hand nonetheless and proceeds to the desk to fill the necessary paperwork. This time, the silence between them is tense, and neither dare break it. 

As they pass security, they're led to the visiting area, white-walled and eerily similar in appearance to the lab—Jeongin shudders at the sight, goosebumps of discomfort rising on his skin. Felix releases his hand in favour of rubbing Jeongin's shoulder gently as a means of comfort. Jeongin leans slightly into the touch and breathes out slowly, gathering his wits about him. The security opens the door of the room and Jeongin steps in, Felix following close behind him. 

Jeongin could barely remember the last civil conversation he had with his mother although it had only been a week or two ago at most. It seemed so long, and as Jeongin sits across from the woman that may as well be a stranger to him, he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes. And more than anything he hated it, hated how he, despite having the clear upper hand in the situation, could not lift his head and stare her in the eye. He hears Felix settle down in the seat beside him, shifting his weight awkwardly. He clears his throat. “Mum…”

“Son.” The word is spat like poison and Jeongin flinches. Without looking up, he can already feel her gaze boring into his skull as though it would pierce twin holes through his head if she was intent enough. He draws in a slow breath. It wasn’t as though they had all the time in the world and he hadn’t come here to cower at the feet of the defeated. 

Raising his head, he meets her eyes only to find them staring defiantly into his own. His lips purse into a frown and his eyes narrow. His lips part before shutting once again. He feels a warmth against his thigh and steals a fleeting glance at Felix, who doesn't meet his eyes, but is also staring at the woman seated across from them with an unwavering determination in his gaze. Feeling something cold sink down in his gut, he raises his eyes to his mother once again. "...why?"

The question was both abrupt and furtive, unintentionally revealing the unease that he wanted to mask. And when he hears the unbearable screech of high heel over the linoleum flooring, he winces. 

"I don't owe it to you to say anything," Mrs Yang responds coolly, tucking a lock of her waved hair behind her ear in a delicate movement. 

"You owe more than that to Jeongin," Felix suddenly interrupts before Jeongin has the chance to so much as open his mouth to speak. Jeongin's heart leaps and his head snaps to face Felix. There's a stony expression on the blonde's face that ignites the fire in his gaze all the brighter as he stares Mrs. Yang in the eyes. "You deceived him his entire life." Felix relaxes slightly and crosses one leg over the other. "I respected you, Mrs. Yang. I thought you loved Jeongin." His eyes narrow and Jeongin's eyes widen when he sees the glassy sheen of unshed tears fill Felix's eyes. The man barely seems to notice, his gaze firm.

"Felix, darling, you're young and naive," Mrs. Yang bites back, her voice calm and scathing. "You were the love that I gave to Jeongin. When he was useful to me."

Felix's eyes narrow. "My love for Jeongin isn't dependent on your manipulation," he responds, equally calm. "And he's a human being—not some kind of object that you can use and dispose of when you don't need to."

To his surprise, Mrs. Yang only tilts her head back and laughs, the sound deceptively sweet for such a terrifying woman. She hides her amused smile behind manicured nails. "Aren't you the little idealist?" she hums. "Everything is disposable. Especially humans." She spreads her arms benignly, a vague gesture to nothing in particular. "Humans are a very effective and renewable resource, darling. Even I'm disposable. Stopping me isn't going to stop Black Tiger."

Jeongin shivers at her candid words, spoken blithely as though lifetime in prison wasn't hanging over her head. He bites his lip and draws in a breath to speak, but once again, Felix beats him to it. "You...why would you do this? Why would you be part of Black Tiger, Mrs. Yang? You had everything! You had money and fame and...literally everything you could have wanted! So why did you have to do all of this—" Felix's voice catches and he grits his teeth. A hand resting over his own draws his attention to Jeongin.

"Lix— that's enough. I'm the one that wants answers, I'll ask the questions." He removes his hand from Felix's and folds it in his lap as he faces his mother once again. "...why did you have to lie to my brother? Minho cared about you, even after he died. He told me to cherish you. He always loved you. Why would you make him believe that you cared about him if you were the one that killed his mother?"

Felix's head whips around to stare at Jeongin in shock, the information new to his ears. His eyes drift back to Mrs. Yang before fixating Jeongin once more. "Wait—"

Mrs. Yang's gaze turns frigid and Jeongin nearly flinches back, his fingers curling over his knees. Felix's interjection falls on deaf ears as his mother's words cut through the air like the knife that had slit Mrs. Han's throat: restless and out for blood. "Oh don't interrogate me like I'm some heartless witch," she hums, her voice deceptively cloying for the sharp look in her eyes. "I'm just here the same as everyone else. It's survival of the fittest in life, and she just didn't happen to be the fittest."

Jeongin's hands curl into fists. "Mother, don't evade the subject, the court has recordings of you admitting you did it. I just want to know why…" He rises to his feet and rests his palms flat on the table as he stares her down. "You killed Minho's mother. Why did you hate her so much? She…" His mind is pulled back to the photograph he had found in the false bottom of the drawer back in his father's study. "She didn't seem like a bad person...or is that all the conviction you need?" His eyes narrow nearly into slits.

At first, Mrs. Yang doesn't speak a word, searching Jeongin's gaze for something. Finally, she pushes her chair back and shrugs. "Yang Jeongin, I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"Hey!" 

Jeongin grabs Felix's arm with surprisingly quick reflexes the moment the man jumps to his feet. He turns back to Mrs. Yang. "Yeah, we've covered that base already, mum," he states, his voice low as he pushes Felix down onto the chair once again. "Just tell me the truth. It's not like you're losing anything."

Her lips purse into a delicate line as she rises gracefully to her feet and raises her arms. Jeongin notes the effort it takes and recalls that he had been the one to shoot her in the shoulder. He really does flinch this time, but freezes when her hands come to cup his face gently. The tension beneath her touch tell him that she could probably crush his jugular if she desired, and his pulse quickens. 

"Yang Jeongin, I don't owe it to you to tell you anything," she stares calmly. "You were raised kind. You'll never survive in the real world." Her eyes narrow. "But because you're my flesh and blood, I'm going to tell you this much for your own sake. You can't trust anyone. You'll step on others to get where you need to go. And once you get there, you'll fight tooth and nail to keep what you have or you'll lose it all. Like Minho's mother. Like your father."

"Like you?" Jeongin queries, reaching up to remove her hands from his face in a bold gesture. "This is the real world, mum. The one where you lied to me, killed my family, hurt my friends...but it's also the world where you actually did care for me at one point. It's the world where I have my friends and Felix." He leans back. "So even if your intentions were fake your actions were still real. And I have to deal with it no matter what it turned out to be." He crosses his arms loosely over his chest. "If you want to tell me anything, I want the full truth. You have nothing left to lose. And I want to know everything."

An elegantly sculpted eyebrow rides up on her forehead with her surprise and she sits down once again. "All right. Consider it a gift to the victor." She crosses her arms over her chest. "After this, I don't want to see your face again or associate with you any more. Understood?"

A serpent of unease coils in Jeongin's stomach, but he nods and sits himself down carefully. "I...can do that. So tell me the truth."

She crosses one leg over the other and folds her hands delicately in her lap. Jeongin had never taken the time to note that, despite her docile first-impressions, her palms were callused and scarred, pale and old-looking things that preached a life of violence and familiarity with arms. It had never occurred to him that his mother's habit of wearing clothing that concealed her skin was to hide that evidence. She seemed too relaxed despite the predicament, and somehow that perturbed Jeongin more than he would've liked to admit. 

"Well, Jeongin, you'd best appreciate this," she hums, a mirthless smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Your mother is a coward."

Jeongin just stares silently, making no move to respond, forcing her to carry on with her exposition. 

She breathes out a soundless huff that almost seemed amused. "See, no one wants to die. And when you're born into a world where you survive by devouring the weak and grasping whatever can bring you up the ranks, that's what you do." She smiles. "Unfortunately, not all of us are blessed with a normal life like you or Felix. We're taken in by forces like Black Tiger, trained and taught to do their dirty work, and paid royally."

Jeongin's lips part but before he can speak, his mother raises a finger. "You learn to value no one's life but your own. You learn that no one can care about you but yourself. And it's even harder to earn respect if you're a woman. But I did." She uncrosses her legs. "It's a good life. Money, power, connections, and no regrets." She purses her lips. "I rose through the ranks as someone who targeted businesses. It's the easiest way to get money and the richer the person the more corrupt. The more obtuse, the easier to obtain blackmail. It's funny, really, how businessmen and businesswomen can be played like fiddles." 

"So you targeted my father," Jeongin murmurs 

Mrs. Yang shakes her head. "Not at all, darling. It was that man's wife who targeted me. She recognized my work. That little spitfire was a danger to my career—if I was found out, I'd be useless. And useless members are trodden on and left to die." She smiles coldly. "I didn't want to die. So I did the easiest thing."

Jeongin tenses. "You killed her."

"Oh, no, Jeongin, I didn't _simply_ kill her. I decided to destroy her. And it wasn't difficult at all. A little poison here and there, some recurring organ failures…" Jeongin's eyes widen his body seizing in horror and his breaths catching in his throat at the sweet smile on her features. When she catches sight of it, she chuckles. "Are you scared, sweetie?" She croons. "This is the real world. I'm not the only one of me out there. You can hate us to your heart's content, but we will survive. It's the only thing we can do."

"That's enough!" Felix rises to his feet and stares down at her darkly. "We don't need the details, just tell us everything you did...you've already put Jeongin through enough!"

Her scathing gaze turns itself on him and she tuts. "Don't be impatient, Felix, dear. Jeongin wanted the truth, and so he'll receive the truth." She offers him a tight-lipped smile. "When your father's wife fell ill, her organs began to fail. And when it reached the stage where transplant was necessary, she was placed on the waiting list. During that time, I spoke to your father, suggested that he take an easier route. Of course he disagreed, that stubborn man." A scowl curls its way onto her lips. "So I fed him information and watched him fall desperate until his wife finally died and he lost it. Came crawling to my feet like a stray dog."

Jeongin feels a burning sensation of something rather unpleasant tear through his skull, and it takes him a moment to realize that his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles were paper-white. He presses his lips together tightly, resisting the urge to interject with an irascible retort. It was probably what she wanted to see from him and he wasn't about to let her have that gratification.

"It was all history after that. He invested in the red market. He believed he was doing the right thing by helping the people who needed organs when the hospitals wouldn't operate on them. He justified himself that way." She shrugs delicately. "A hypocritical idealism if you ask me. It's all the same—treading on the weak to satisfy your own wants. He married me and I helped him further himself in the industry. His position also benefited me, so it was worth the small price."

"You...never loved my father?" Jeongin finally interjects, his voice shaking. Felix steals a glance at him, eyes welling with concern, but Jeongin doesn't noticed. "You...lied to my father and you never loved him?!"

Mrs. Yang's patronizing eyes fall on him with some semblance of pity. "Love is a relative term, Jeongin, dear. Everything is dependent on a give-receive basis. I won't help you unless you can do something for me. Likewise, you wouldn't help me unless I could do something for you. I respected your father in that he was useful to me." She seems about to carry on, but hesitates and cuts herself short.

Jeongin's brow creases. "You never loved any of us."

"This isn't about love, Jeongin," she explains slowly, a slight lilt to her voice as though explaining a concept to a little child. "This is about survival." She raises a manicured finger. "I didn't plan on having you in the beginning. Inheritance doesn't matter to me. When I die, that's the end. That's all. So keeping Minho was only a convenient precaution for your father to have an heir. Unfortunately, he had to stick his nose where it didn't belong, much like his mother."

"So you killed him," Jeongin interrupts.

She shakes her head. "When I found out, it was only a matter of time before Black Tiger would eliminate him before he could become a threat, so I had you. I was pregnant when he died. Of course I didn't kill him."

Jeongin shoots to his feet his eyes wide. "You're admitting it!"

Both Felix and Mrs. Yang eye him with flickering confusion in their eyes. Felix is the one to voice the question in both their minds. "Admitting what?"

"That Minho hyung was killed! That he didn't die of heart failure!"

Jeongin swears that he sees a sheen of panic in his mother's eyes, but as soon as it had appeared, it dissipated, leaving behind a self-assured smile. "I never said that. I only said that I didn't kill him. His death was unfortunate. He would have made a suitable heir."

"You implied that he was like his mother so he needed to die! And you said you killed her. We know you were the cause of Minho hyung's death, why won't you just admit it?"

"Because it won't do you any good if I do," Mrs. Yang hums. "The court can't say that it's true just because I said so. You can't prove I did it. I'm saving you boys a lot of trouble." She smiles coldly. "Like I said, it's unfortunate that he died."

Jeongin's brow knits. "Won't you at least tell me why you had his name changed..? He's still my father's son—he's still Yang Minho." Jeongin's lips draw a thin line on his features. "If you hadn't changed his name then maybe Seungmin wouldn't have realized that something was wrong so quickly…"

A somewhat distant look enters Mrs. Yang's eyes and she smirks, a slight, self-satisfied thing. "It was all part of destroying his mother's legacy. Her son died, not as my husband's son, but as a common, hapless child. It was, in a way, convenient for me when your half-brother died. It removed any trace of her existence from my life."

His eyes narrow. "The fire then! What about the fire? That was you too, wasn't it?" Jeongin accuses.

"Oh, that was a mere auxiliary tactic," she dismisses with a wave of her hand. "You refused to come to me when I sent for you, so I had to make you realize you had no choice." She smiles. "If only you were an obedient boy and taken your surgery like you were supposed to, maybe it would have never happened." Her eyes fall pointedly on Felix's arms, no longer bandaged, but reddened with the wispy scars from his burns. A wave of guilt crashes down on Jeongin.

"Mrs. Yang, you can't hold him responsible for that," Felix suddenly interjects, his voice deathly calm. "We were the ones that brought him out of the hospital. We were the ones that insisted he stay with us. All the blame is ours and not his this time," he insists firmly.

Mrs Yang offers him a polite, cold smile. "And look what that naivete did to you and your friends," she hums ruthlessly, cracking a knuckle.

Jeongin slumps back into his chair with the frigid sensation of defeat washing over him, leaving his skin tingling and somewhat numb. "Then...one more question," he mumbles.

"Ask away," she responds coolly.

"Why...did you kill my father?" 

"Because he had expended his use, much like you. Seeing your brother would have tainted him. He has the money and authority to leave Black Tiger and turn in many of its subordinates with minimal repercussions. And I couldn't let him do that because it would mean trouble for me. It was in the interests of self-preservation that I killed him." She smiles. "And in doing so, I leave you in shambles, my darling son. You have no experience to keep yourself afloat in the big bad world. You had everything I never did, and now you've taken everything away from me, so I'll do the same to you." She smiles. "I could kill you and your precious boyfriend now, but letting you live would be so much worse for you, so I won't."

Jeongin stands up once again and takes Felix's hand, his fingers clawing for purchase as he tugs the man to his feet. "...I've heard enough. Let's go, Lixie," he mutters, fighting back the urge to make unsavoury exclamations. He wouldn't lose his composure—not in front of her. When Felix doesn't budge, Jeongin glances back at him through narrowed eyes. "I said let's go, Lix."

"You were right, Mrs. Yang," Felix states, his voice harder than Jeongin had ever heard it before. "You are a coward." He rises to his feet. "I...feel sorry for you. That you had to turn out like this." He squeezes Jeongin's hand firmly. "I'm sorry that you could never see the world a different way." His eyes soften. "Jeongin is different. He'll make it through this, and I and his friends are going to be with him through every step of it." Felix meets Jeongin's eyes. "We'll show you that there are other ways to survive."

He strides for the door, tugging Jeongin along with him, and in all his feelings of surprise, Jeongin stumbles along. As Felix grasps the handle of the door and pushes it open, Jeongin spares the woman he had once thought of as his mother a glance. "Goodbye, Mrs. Yang," he bids softly a warmth spreading through his body sourcing from where his hand held Felix's. "After the trials are over, we won't be seeing each other again."

A subdued air rests over them as they make their way out of the greeting area, thanking the guards in their wake. It's only once they're finally outside of the oppressive building that Felix finally slows to a halt and turns to face Jeongin. "Babe…"

A slow smile curls over Jeongin's lips as he stares at the ground. "Don't sound so worried, Lixie. I'm fine."

"But—"

Jeongin peers over at the blonde and raises an eyebrow. "I promise I'm fine, Lixie." He smiles. "I...feel a little better now that I know the truth. I don't have to live a lie any more." He sighs. "It's...a lot, but there's no point brooding over it right now. Maybe I'll brood about it later when we have more time. Right now we have to move forward."

Felix shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah—I got that part, it's just…" he pauses and tilts his head. "We were having an argument before right? Want to pick it up now that we're out of there?"

Jeongin's eyes widen with incredulity at Felix's grinning face and he can't quite hide the slight smile that pulls at the corner of his lips. "Oh, Lixie...let's put it on hold for now. We need to talk to Minho hyung about this and the will first."

Felix chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound. "Anything you say, babe."

* * *

"I'm telling you, Minnie, it's a lost cause," Hyunjin pouts, arms thrown carefully around the brunette from behind as Seungmin labours over a burnt cotton canvas in the living room of Changbin's apartment, just as he had been doing for days since he had been discharged from the hospital. "Chan hyung's gonna kill me if he finds out you aren't resting, and frankly that's really not how I wanna go.

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Broken shoulder blade," Seungmin huffs, staring pointedly at Hyunjin's shoulder cast through his fringe that was slightly too long—he needed to trim it, but he didn't want to irritate his scalp just yet, so he had little choice but to let it grow. Much of his deadened skin had fallen off and his grafts were healing quite nicely, although his facial grafts had become infected. It had resulted in a rather unpleasant enucleation, but Seungmin couldn't bring himself to mope over the loss of an eye. He still had one left, he reasoned whenever Chan would fuss over it. Seeing was better than not seeing. "Besides, we both know Chan hyung is too soft to so much as mess with your hair the wrong way."

"I heal fast," Hyunjin dismisses with a nonchalant wave of his wrist, resting his chin on Seungmin's shoulder from behind. "I'm just saying...you're only going to wreck Jisung's painting if you keep going at this pace and honestly…" Hyunjin pauses, a frown curling onto his lips. "I really...I don't want you to have gone through all that for nothing, Minnie." Hyunjin prods the brunette's uninjured cheek with a knuckle. "And it's the only thing he has left."

Seungmin's shoulders fall at that and he sighs, his eye trailing over the vibrant colours that now laid charred over the canvas. What had once been vivid reds, oranges, and yellows in a startling, abstract display was now pitifully ashened. He traces his finger over the oddly fiery brushstrokes and he bites his lip. He winces as he breaks skin. "I know it is," he mumbles. "And I know I'm more...rational than this but lately…"

Hyunjin's lips press into a taut line. "Yeah. Kind of hard to not obsessively watch your back."

"And kind of hard to not feel things that aren't there," Seungmin adds, rubbing his forearm absently. He glances back at Hyunjin. "It's...just a hunch. If I mess this up, tell Sungie he can give me a good hook in the jaw."

A mischievous smirk creeps over Hyunjin's somewhat dry lips and he cocks an eyebrow at Seungmin. "Feeling confident, are we?"

In turn, Seungmin chuckles. "Maybe. Or just feeling reckless." A sparkle enters his gaze. "Maybe your bad ethic is rubbing off on me, Hyunjinnie," he teases. In response, Hyunjin's eyes widen comically and his jaw falls slack.

"Bad ethic? Me?" He pouts. "Cruelty, thy name is Seungminnie." Rolling away from Seungmin, the taller man hops to his feet with a surprising alacrity for someone with a wounded back and skitters to the kitchen. "My ethic is the best and you know it," he chirps, and Seungmin only rolls his eye fondly.

Turning back to the scorched canvas, Seungmin runs his fingers over frayed edges. He just wanted that slight hint that there was something there...something that could change their situation for the better, but it was foolish for him to so much as hope and he knew it all too well. After all, Jisung was as teeming with well-utilized skill. Of all the pieces that Jisung had created, this was the only one that survived. Seungmin knew the chances of his gut feeling being useful was painfully low. He groans and slumps back against the foot of the sofa, a knee falling onto the soft carpet. He winces as his skin pulls and stretches uncomfortably. 

A coolness bumps against his cheek and he glances up to find Hyunjin toting a half-asleep Kkami in the crook of one arm, and a glass of water, complete with painkillers in the other hand with a grin. "Hey, less pain less distractions, right?" The man hums, plopping down beside him. "If you're gonna insist on leaning over until your spine ties itself into knots, I mean."

"I wouldn't take painkillers just because my back hurts a little," Seungmin huffs, accepting the glass anyway and downing it gratefully. He cracks his neck and pokes at the painting with a slightly jaded look crossing his features. "You know, Changbin hyung's been really elusive lately. He's not usually this diligent about his classes, what's up with him?"

Hyunjin shrugs nonchalantly, pushing open a laptop screen and tapping in a passcode. Kkami growls at the glaring screen and burrows into Hyunjin's lap to return to a much-desired sleep. Hyunjin's fingers run through the pup's fur soothingly. "Stress workouts. I think he's started taking up martial arts too." Hyunjin giggles. "Also he's been planning doing some big time renovation on Felix and Jisung's house after the fire, but they don't know that yet. So shhh, it can be our secret."

Seungmin's eye widens. "That's...that's a lot of money—and do they even want to live there after everything…?" He shudders at the thought. "I mean...it’s not exactly the nicest place after everything.”

“Well it _was_ off the grid at the time,” Hyunjin hums. “But he’s planning on putting it on so that it’s necessary to follow the building safety protocols and have all the amenities they need.” Hyunjin grabs a throw pillow from the couch and sets it on his lap, lifting the half-asleep pup onto it and patting him placatingly with one hand as he taps on the keys with the other. “I think they’d appreciate it, especially Jisungie.” 

Seungmin smiles a lopsided little thing and grabs a needle from a small tray of odds and ends beside him. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Hyunjin laughs, the sound filled with no merriment. “Jisungie’s the opposite of me, he has attachment to place. Even if a lot of bad things happened in that house, I still think he’d want to be there for the time being at least. Until they can rack up enough funds to go someplace better or decide to live in the dorms or something.

“Were you guys talking about me?”

Seungmin and Hyunjin’s heads perk up like a pair of meerkats at the familiar voice, and a deceptively sweet smile crawls over Hyunjin’s head. “About how much we loooove you,” he croons, rocking from side to side and hiding a giggle. “Also how you’re the most annoying person we’ve ever met.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” Jisung retorts, a pout curling over his lips as he grabs a pillow and throws it at Hyunjin. The taller of the pair calmly lifts the Kkami-laden pillow and sets it carefully on the couch. Promptly, he throws himself down onto the carpet and grabs his arm like he had been shot again, face twisting into a dramatic grimace. 

“Owwww, ow, you’re so mean, throwing things at the wounded, throw something at Seungminnie instead!” he whines, beating his fists against the carpet.

Seungmin huffs, grabbing another pillow and smacking Hyunjin gently on the head with it. “Wow. Advocating against throwing things at the wounded by suggesting he throw things at me? How rude.” Hyunjin promptly begins to wail, shielding his head with yet another pillow.

“Heeeeelp, Minho hyung I’m being attaaaacked!” 

Minho peeps at them from behind the door and raises an eyebrow. “How any of you are still alive is beyond me. And also how you knew I was here…” 

Seungmin’s lips curl into an amused smile. “Well...to be fair, wherever Sungie is, you seem to be too, so..” he drifts off, his voice lilting with almost a teasing tone to it. Minho’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, but eventually it just snaps shut and he averts his gaze.

“You know what? That’s not a hill worth dying on,” he sighs. “Live and let live.” The pregnant silence that follows his words leads his eyes to widen in realization and he whips around to face them once again. “Oh, don’t you dare—”

“Not a hill worth dying on?” Seungmin laughs, his eye crinkling. 

“Live and let live?” Hyunjin echoes, stealing a mischievous glance at Seungmin.

“You gotta admit you kind walked right into that one,” Jisung concludes with a wide grin stealing over his features. 

Minho rolls his eyes. “All of you shut up and show some respect for the dead for once,” he retorts, but there’s no edge to his voice. If anything, an air of relieved mirth rests over them, a breath of fresh air after all that had happened. Jisung plops himself down beside Seungmin and peers over his shoulder at the damaged painting in his hands.

"Do you really like it that much..?" He asks. "I mean, you can have it if you want." Seungmin nearly recoils at the suggestion, his fingers instinctively shrinking against his palms and a grimace twisting onto his features at that. Jisung purses his lips. "Wow, okay, if you hated it you could've just said so."

A flicker of guilt enters Seungmin's eye as his lips pull into a taut line, and Jisung's lips part as the root of the unpleasant response dawns on him. Seungmin, although never wanting to trouble others, was rather terrible at concealing his heart when it came to his friends. The way he'd refuse to step into the kitchen, or shy away from the fireplace whenever it was switched on didn't pass under Jisung's notice. Assuming that Seungmin wouldn't feel tormented by the very object that had cost him more than he could have imagined was balancing on the fine line between presumptuous and cruel. Jisung frowns and shakes his head. "...sorry, Min."

The younger offers him a weak smile and pokes at the weakening canvas with his needle. "You apologizing to me? You've bumped your head one too many times, Sung, I knew I should've childproofed the house."

Jisung huffs. "Oh, shut up." He rests his chin on Seungmin's shoulder carefully and peers down at the painting. "You never told me why you're so interested in it suddenly though," he mused noncommittally. "Not that I care if you take it apart, but…"

"I just can't damage it," Seungmin murmurs, his brow furrowing as he pulls loose the coarse cotton. "But I have to…" Whatever follows his words, Jisung has to strain to hear, and even then it's halfway incoherent. He glances over at Hyunjin, perplexed, but the man only shrugs in response.

"Hey, live and let live, right?" Hyunjin hums, flashing Minho a grin that earns him an affectionate eyeroll as the man disappears from the living room. "He's been at it for days, might as well let him keep at it."

Seungmin's eye shifts over to Hyunjin and he cocks an eyebrow at him. "I can hear you guys, you know."

Hyunjin gasps and covers his mouth, affronted. "My dear Seungminnie, do you really think we'd talk behind your back? No, we'd talk to your face," he huffs. He pauses and his gaze darkens slightly. "It would just be a crying shame if this was all for nothing…" Jisung spares Hyunjin a warning glance but the taller man barely seems to notice, his eyes trained on Seungmin for his reaction. 

The younger's lips part, only to close once more as his gaze falls back onto the canvas. "Don't worry about me so much, Hyunjinnie, that's not like you," Seungmin scolds, not unkindly, lines forming on his brow as he scratches at the painting. "I'm okay. I swear." He tenses, his movements accidentally scoring deeper than intended into the acrylic, tearing a clawlike line through paint and canvas. His eye widens. "Oh— Sung, I—"

Jisung feels his heart stutter rather discordantly in his chest at the sight of his painting being quite literally torn apart in front of his eyes. Empty words aside, it sent a shock of astonishment through Jisung's veins. He smiles wryly. "Jeez, Min, didn't literally mean take it apart—" He tenses as Seungmin pulls at the damaged area, widening the rift and tearing the cotton. "Seungmin, what the h—" his voice dies in his throat as though something had ripped the words straight out of his mind before they had the chance to form on his tongue.

Seungmin carefully peels away the cotton layer, working at the burnt patches with the needle to reveal beneath it another relatively unharmed sheet of canvas, which too was painted over in muted colours, pale blues and greens laced with wisps of white that drifted seamlessly into each other, a rather dramatic contrast of the violent, fiery colours brushed generously onto the foremost layer. He finally tears the charred fabric off of the wooden framing to reveal the image beneath and although the smallest part of him expected precisely what he saw, it still stunned him to the core: the imperfectly depicted yet unmistakeable bust of a familiar young man with stars in his large, catlike eyes. No smile curved its way onto his round lips and an air of seriousness immortalized itself on his symmetrical face, yet its inspiration was as clear as crystal.

"Jisung—" Seungmin breathes, his heart pounding from an inexplicable anticipation. His gaze whips over to the brunette only to find Jisung's eyes as wide as saucers, staring blankly at the painting. 

"When did...did I…? I mean—" Jisung stammers at a loss for words. 

Seungmin's single eye glints triumphantly and he jumps to his feet with far more invigoration than should ever rest on his poor injuries, fingers curled delicately around the wooden frame. "Lee Jisung, don't you see? This is the key to winning your case! We just need to send it in to the forensic department to verify the date it was painted and make a few calls—"

"Whoa there, Minnie," Hyunjin interrupts hopping up and carefully pushing the brunette down to sit once again. "Don't need any else breaking

Jisung's eyes fixate the painting and he takes it carefully from Seungmin's grasp, the torn canvas draping over his arms as he stares in disbelief. "Since when…?"

"Since when what?"

Hyunjin and Seungmin turn to eye Minho as he strides into the living room, wiping his hands with a dishcloth and gazing curiously at their trio. His gaze falls on the painting in Jisung's hands and his eyes widen. The cloth flutters to the tiled floor, forgotten as Minho darts over to Jisung's side. "Is that...did you—"

Jisung's chest feels hollow, empty and his breaths come with a struggle as his eyes run up and down the painting. He had heard Seungmin loud and clear—this was his key out, and it only filled him with an odd simultaneous feeling of dread and peace. Beneath that dread laid unsurety, and then under that apprehension. Perhaps he felt a slight gladness that this could finally reach closure, but it also meant...that everything he had been fleeing from like a coward was catching up to him, overtaking him. 

Memories of feverish slavery over a cheap canvas with cheaper paints, locked in his room, barely speaking a word to his adoptive brother come rushing back to his mind. Fears of a distorted reality, hallucinations, faces he remembered but had never seen, stapled over the image that had seared into his brain, covering it in blank, cotton canvas, splashed with turmoil disguised in reds, oranges, yellows. It had all been real. It had all been real and he had simply...forgotten.

And now it was here in his hands once more. Everything that he had buried away, everything he had forsaken. Minho. Chest bursting with diverse and vehement emotions that left him grasping lamentably for breath like a drowning man, he turns to stare at Minho, heart pounding in his chest and eyes dry. "It's... it's you, Minho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters to go, I do hope you're all looking forward to it as much as I am~  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this, and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to my wonderful readers and welcome to this chapter, the bonus update to celebrate the new year~  
> I figured it would be nice to start the new year off with another chapter ^^  
> Anyway, surprises are in store, so I won't ramble~ without further ado, let's go!

Jeongin watches silently as Mrs. Yang is led out of the courtroom in handcuffs. She doesn't so much as spare him a glance, nor speak a single word in protest, and part of him reaches out to her in silence, wondering if, perhaps, things could have been different. He sighs and closes his eyes, turning his head away. Of course, that could never be. He had earned his stubbornness from someone, and their morals clashed far too aggressively. His head hangs as the courtroom clears, a dull ache in his chest that could have been from his surgery. Or it could have been from the regret, but that wasn't something he could afford to dwell on.

A warmth encapsulates his hand and he turns to find Felix eyeing him with concern. "Babe...are you doing okay?"

Shifting, he laces his fingers with Felix's smaller ones and squeezes tightly. "It's... that's finally over, Lixie," he murmurs, leaning over and resting his head against the blonde's shoulder with a resigned kind of tiredness. Nonetheless, he'd be lying if he claimed not to feel a wave of cool relief flowing over his skin. "I'm doing more than okay. It's over now." He smiles against Felix's neck. "It's over, Lixie, we won."

The warmth at his side encircles him as Felix's arm wraps around his suit-clad shoulder, pulling him close. "Yeah, we did," Felix mutters, his voice dropping to a comforting rumble. "Finally."

It had been an excruciating month of hearings and waiting, but they had finally seen to it that Mrs. Yang would be kept behind bars for a long time. Thanks to Seungmin's discovery of the old painting, Jisung had narrowly evaded a lawsuit, and the incessant, restless bustle was finally slowing. After having to remain on their toes with minimal amounts of sleep regardless of Chan's hypocritical scoldings, they were all more exhausted than anything else, but the crushing weight of relief laid heavier on them than any tiredness could.

A familiar, gentle softness against his temple pulls a smile onto Jeongin's lips and he glances up at Felix to find the elder nuzzling into his styled hair. He laughs softly and pushes himself to his feet. "We should probably leave," he remarks, glancing around them at the relatively empty area. "Everyone else is waiting outside. Better not keep them." He smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Besides, we have things to do." His hand drifts to the breast pocket of his suit jacket for the briefest of moments.

"That we do," Felix agrees grabbing Jeongin's coat and half-wresting it onto the younger, buttoning it up and sparing him a peck to the cheek. "But make sure you're keeping warm. We can't have you falling sick or losing too much breath too quickly." He huffs. "You do a surgery on one man and he suddenly thinks he's superman…"

"Is Chan hyung rubbing off on you?" Jeongin accuses affectionately. "I can take care of myself, Lix, no need to make a big fuss."

"Well it's getting colder and I'm terrible at cooking so if you get sick, don't expect me to make you any soup," Felix chuckles. He raises his eyebrows with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. It soon dims into something gentler that embraces Jeongin almost as warmly as the blonde's arms did. "Let me treasure you a bit, babe. We've all been through a lot, and…" Felix drifts off, his gaze darkening. "...it could've ended up so differently."

Jeongin squeezes his hand once more with an extra dose of fervency. "But it didn't, Lix." He points out. "We're okay now. In this regard at least. We're all alive. A bit beat up but still…" he frowns and falls silent.

Felix guides him outside and a biting breeze swathes them. He huffs and peers around the area for their friends. "Can't believe it's been so long since this all started," he hums. "Sung's probably telling Minho hyung everything as we speak." Felix's gaze grows distant as they travel to where Chan's SUV is parked by the roadside. 

"Minho hyung…" Jeongin echoes slowly. "He's...been holding up pretty well. Physically and mentally. But…"

As they draw closer, the small conglomeration of their friends turns to face them with smiles on their faces. Minho, now consistently translucent and almost at a state where they could quite literally almost see through him, steps forward and wraps Jeongin in a firm embrace. Past the layers of coat jacket and shirt, Jeongin could still feel the odd but comforting coolness that radiated naturally from Minho. The elder of the pair pulls back and ruffles his hair with an affectionate smirk. "Look at you, little brother, surviving the big bad world like you are." Minho bumps foreheads with Jeongin gently. "I'm proud of you, cutie."

"We've finally brought that chapter a close," Woojin agrees with a relieved smile. "This does call for celebration, you know." His gaze trails behind them. "...preferably away from the press...they look like they're about to mob us." Jeongin's attention is taken back to the rather intimidating troupe of cameras and mics and notebook brandishing journalists that advance on them and his face pales. 

Changbin's eyes widen and he glances back at Woojin. "Hyung...that's because they are about to mob us, and frankly Jeongin must have the patience of a saint to not have filed restraining orders already—point being, let's get out of here!" He opens the door of the vehicle and everyone readily piles in as Woojin takes the wheel, whisking them off. 

Jisung breathes out a sigh of relief once they're well away from the bustling media. "Jeez, don't they ever take a break?"

"Please tell me that was a rhetorical question," Chan huffs, rubbing his upper arm absently. 

Seungmin chuckles and twists around to stare out the back window, eye narrowing to catch any sign of being followed. Once he satisfies himself with the empty, autumnal landscape, he twists around and adjusts the leather eyepatch secured around his head, where most of his hair had grown back save a patch on the left side where his scalp had burnt. "Well, sometimes it's hard to tell with someone like Sungie, but this time I'm pretty sure it was rhetorical." He scratches at the blotchy, red discolouration that stretches over his left cheek with a fingernail, more out of habit than anything else.

"We're headed to Innie's place, right?" Hyunjin calls from the front passenger seat, his hand plastered to the window of the SUV as he stares out at the whirling fall colours with a childlike glimmer in his eyes and an excited smile pressed onto his full lips. "Maybe if they do realize we're going there, they'll follow us." He laughs. "And then we'll have to fight them off." He lifts Kkami up in his arms and nuzzles him, cooing affectionately at the unamused dog. "It's like having human-sized chew toys, Kkami," he chirps. The pup perks up at the mention of toys and Hyunjin giggles.

"Hyunjin, what have we said about fighting people?" Woojin interjects with admonishment in his voice. 

The taller of the pair pouts and lowers the canine back onto his lap. "..yeah, yeah, don't. Unless they're part of a criminal organization and are trying to gut you and your friends. I got it the first time, hyung."

"So the rules have been updated, I see," Chan remarks dryly. 

Woojin peers back at them from the rearview mirror and smiles. "After the recent events I've concluded that the rules could afford to be tweaked just a little," he replies without missing a beat. 

"Even without an explicit rule I'm pretty sure our Hyunjin would be just fine," Changbin quips with an amused grin. 

"Rules are made to be broken," Hyunjin chirps happily as he ruffles Kkami's ears, earning himself a fond eyeroll, courtesy of Woojin.

After no short amount of time, they roll past the gates of the Yang Estate and down the pathway that leads to the courtyard. Jeongin glances around at the messy area, stone road strewn with dead leaves and intricate planters encroached by unsightly masses of weeds and overgrown plants. He sighs and rakes his fingers through his disheveled hair. "I guess it's not going to be easy to hire housekeepers," he murmurs.

Felix rests a hand on his thigh and smiles. "Worry about that later, Innie. Let's go relax for a bit." He grins. "Maybe we can put the pedal to the metal and clear it out ourselves later. I'm sure everyone would be willing to pitch in."

"Manual labour? Ew," Jisung singsongs teasingly, earning him a smack to the back of his head from Minho. He winces and glares at the man. "Ow, the hell was that for?!"

"Ew yourself," Minho hums, an infuriatingly pretty smirk curling onto his round lips. "If you really want this place whipped into shape, then we'll whip this place into shape for you, cutie," he assures Jeongin. "After I whip our dear Lee Jisung into shape."

Changbin snorts. "Might wanna watch the expressions," he interjects. "Jisung might enjoy that a little too much."

The brunette's eyes widen and his jaw falls slack as the blood rushes to his face and he turns to glare at Changbin. "And just what is that supposed to mean, Seo Changbin?" He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck consciously. 

The sunlight catches on Changbin's liprings, mocking Jisung with a dancing shine as the man's lips spread into a mischievous grin that crinkles his tall nose. "I dunno. Why, what were you thinking of, Sungie?"

"Whaaat, Jisung can think?" Hyunjin gasps, earning himself a smack to the shoulder, which was, for the most part, healed although slightly sensitive. He pouts and grips his shoulder. "Didn't we agree to not hurt the wounded?" 

"I don't make agreements with snakes," Jisung replies pettily as they pile out of the car and onto the stone pathway, Kkami running excited circles on the tiles and darting towards one of the planters where weeds had choked out whatever flowers had previously been growing within. Hyunjin rushes after the pup and plucks him out of the dirt, scolding him animatedly whilst dusting off his dirtied paws. Jisung crouches down and pokes curiously at the spaces between the carved stone tiling, where a few rogue plants had managed to press their way through age-old grout. "Wow, plants must really like your soil," he remarks, peering up at Jeongin.

Minho's lips part, as though to break in with some smart comment, but he shuts his mouth and clears his throat instead, drawing their attention to himself. "Right...I'm pretty sure no one's been in here since the police secured the scene for recon, so it's probably a mess." He shrugs and makes his way to the doorway, punching a code into the keypad inlaid within the bronze plating and pulling open the cedar tribulation of a giant door. He turns back to them. "You guys coming?"

"It keeps slipping my mind that this is your house too, hyung," Seungmin remarks wryly. 

A mirthless smirk creeps over the man's refined features. "Heaven forbid. I lost my place here a long time ago, and I don't see a need to come crawling back."

Jeongin strides past him and raises a pale hand, allowing it to fall to an easy rest on his shoulder. "But hyung, I want this to be your home again too," he hums. "I...get why you wouldn't want that but you're my family. This belongs to you as much as it belongs to me. Maybe even more."

Surprise shines in Minho's catlike eyes and a genuine smile lights up his face as everyone else ushers themselves into the empty estate. "Nonsense," he dismisses reaching up to remove Jeongin's hand from his shoulder and squeeze it firmly. "This place is yours by right. I'd fit in a lot better with the estate gardeners, personally." He laughs, his eyes crinkling. "Besides—I'd be more likely to despise this place a little less if the Yang name belongs to you, Yang Jeongin."

"I can already feel the crushing weight of responsibility, hyung," Jeongin lilts, letting his hand fall to his side. His eyes suddenly widen and he whips around. "Oh, that's right! The terms of the will!"

"You did say it was complicated," Woojin recalls, running a forefinger over a shelf and blowing away the thin layer of dust that clung to his skin. "Should we be expecting unreasonable demands?"

Seungmin pulls a phone from his pocket and taps through the lockscreen. "Do you need an attorney? I know a few who'd be willing to help for the right amount—"

"Should we forge a will?" Jisung wonders aloud, only to receive a familiar, unimpressed stare from Seungmin.

"Newsflash, I'm pretty sure that's illegal," the brunette huffs, resting a hand on his hip.

"It's fine, guys," Jeongin reassures, holding his hands up placatingly. "The terms weren't...the best, but it's been straightened out. I don't think we'll need a lawyer aside from my father's attorney. Everything's all good. Cross my heart, hyungs."

Changbin grins. "It's nice to see you sure of yourself, Jeonginnie."

"I agree," Hyunjin chirps, draping himself over Changbin and resting his chin on the older man's shoulder. "It's a good look on you, Innie." From where he pads by Hyunjin's feet, Kkami barks, as if in agreement. Jeongin laughs, his eyes crinkling.

Chan cocks his head, a curious glimmer in his eyes. "We're still curious about what's going on with this though, so why don't you tell us? If there are any complications, we'll help out as much as we can." He pauses. "...but let's go someplace more comfortable instead of just standing around in the lobby."

"Parlour it is," Minho declares, spinning about-face and leading them down one of the corridors. As they follow him, his eyes tune themselves on Jeongin, who seemed rather fidgety for whatever reason, walking two steps ahead of the rest, which was rather unlike him—Minho was well aware that he found his comfort among his friends and especially Felix, but ever since the matter of the will had arisen, he seemed agitated, if the continuous shifting of his hands and tentative darting of his eyes from one area to the other said anything. Minho sides closer to him. "Hey, cutie, are you all right?" He whispers.

Jeongin glances over at him and offers him a lopsided smile, chuckling somewhat nervously. "...why, does it look like I'm not?"

"Oh, you know," Minho hums, throwing a dimly pulsating arm over his shoulders. "It can't possibly be the sudden assertiveness, or the incessant fidgeting, or the nervous glances…" He offers Jeongin an amused smile. "You're like an open book, cutie. That's not a good thing in the business world."

A furtive nod is given in response to the remark, and a small frown curls over Jeongin's lips. "Hyung, about that…" he pats on the pocket of his suit jacket. After a moment's bemusement, Minho reaches into Jeongin's pocket. The moment his fingertips brush against the object inside, his eyes widen in realization and he jerks his hand back as though he'd been burnt.

Jeongin smiles awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck, his gaze dropping absently onto the floor. "It's…" before he can say anything else, a voice cuts through their conversation and he jumps, turning to stare at Jisung, who had made himself comfortable on one of the pale beige chaise lounges in the parlour. 

"You guys coming, or what?"

"I swear he gets more and more obnoxious with each passing day," Minho huffs under his breath. Jeongin steals a glance at the elder and catches a familiar, soft light in his eyes despite his scathing words. 

He hums and hides a grin, instead nodding seriously. "Agreed."

Jeongin settles himself down between Hyunjin and Chan on one of the sofas, and almost automatically the taller of the pair loops around him like a koala to a tree. He pats Hyunjin's arm and then ruffles Kkami's ears as the pup nudges his hand curiously. As he glances around at their company, it occurs to him that this is the first time he's had all of his friends at the estate together like this...willingly at least. Although it was the same, lavishly furnished, opulent parlour, it seemed more homely with them sitting within it. Jeongin couldn't recall the last time he had felt this comfortable in his own home.

He rests his cheek against Hyunjin's head. "So my name was written in the will...but I'm not the heir. I'm inheriting a portion of the House's funds." He shrugs. "But the rest of the fortunes, the estate, and the business aren't mine." He leans against the plush back of the sofa. "My father was kind enough to not force that on me. But it's a lot more complicated… He basically stipulated that the family fortune would go to any of his children that take the reins of Yang Enterprises and runs the business."

Chan's eyes widen. "Isn't that technically forcing it onto you?" He muses. "You're his only child because Minho…" His eyes dart over to the elder of the two brothers. "...isn't exactly in the position to inherit anything—" he stops short when he sees the wide-eyed expression plastered almost comically onto his features. "Minho? You doing all right?"

Woojin huffs, the small sound drawing everyone's attention to him as though it was thunder. He only smiles appeasingly. "Well...the answer is a little obvious, don't you think?" He hums, crossing one leg over the other and propping his arm atop his legs. "Jeongin can either choose to take over Yang Enterprises and take the entire inheritance for himself, or gain it by proxy once his late father has another son or daughter to take over the business in Jeongin's stead. This can include a son or daughter-in-law. Am I right?" He eyes Jeongin curiously.

Jeongin's eyes crinkle and he shrugs in defeat. "Read it like a textbook, hyung."

A long, pregnant silence rests on the gathering until Changbin finally pipes up, breaking it. "So what you're saying is once word gets out about the terms of the will, Jeongin's basically gonna become the nation's most eligible bachelor?" He muses.

Jeongin clears his throat and rises to his feet with a smile. "Hopefully not." He tilts his head slightly. "Thanks for coming with me, hyungs. I had to have some witnesses with me." He removes his coat so that he's trussed in only his suit, and fixes up his hair, looking a little flustered."

"Witnesses?" Felix breaks in, puzzled. Innie, we already went over this with your father's attorney, there isn't anything—" Minho moves away from Felix's side with a snort, hiding a grin behind his hand as he settles himself comfortably beside Changbin. 

Jeongin rests a hand over his chest, drawing in a slow breath to calm his suddenly racing heart. He quietly pads over to where Felix sits alone on another chaise lounge, his eyes still filled with his apparent confusion. Slowly and deliberately, Jeongin lowers himself onto one knee. "I—I'm really sorry this couldn't be more special and I wish it didn't have to seem like it's some kind of business-related thing, but I...Lixie, I love you, I really do." He pauses his rambling and draws in a deep breath as realization dawns full force in Felix's saucer eyes. 

While the moment is trapped in a surreal globe of nervousness and something lighter, more jubilant, Jeongin retrieves the black velvet ring box from his breast pocket and opens it to reveal the band inside: a simple, silver circlet with a small diamond embedded within it. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… Lee Felix, will you marry me?"

Felix just gawps at him for a few moments that seemed like hours, and it takes the intrusive sound of someone clearing their throat to snap everyone present to the reality that was set abruptly before them. Jeongin glances back at Minho with a disgruntled frown, but his attention is quickly drawn back to the freckled blonde before him as Felix's warm fingers hold his cheeks gently, compelling his gaze to fix on the man before him. 

A glowing smile that lights up every inch of Felix's face is what Jeongin sees as his heart hammers at a rather alarming speed within his chest, near sending a thunderous roaring through his ears. Jeongin can't help but smile, the expression pulling on his lips and narrowing his eyes as Felix's lips part and the words come, a low, soft, and reassuring, "Yes, I'll marry you, Yang Jeongin." It was a voice reserved specifically for him, a far cry from his normal excitement. Jeongin understood that Felix acknowledged the massive amount of responsibility that he was signing up for, and still chose to accept it for him. As though someone had poured a ray of morning sunshine on him, bright warmth spreads through his veins as Felix leans down and kisses him. 

The moment is far too soon broken by whoops and excitable yips, likely courtesy of Hyunjin and Jisung, (and Kkami by default) and Jeongin glances back at them rolling his eyes. He sits himself comfortably on the soft rug, cheek resting against Felix's knee as he tugs the ring out of its box and slips it onto Felix's finger. "Could you guys like...shut up for a bit and let me have this?" He huffs, while Felix just laughs in amusement.

"Can't I be happy that my little brother is all grown up now?" Minho asks, propping his arm on Changbin's shoulder with a smirk as he eyes Jeongin, who at this point may as well have been cherry-red with embarrassment.

"Hyungs, I brought you here for eyewitness, not for the loud sound effects," Jeongin retorts, sparing Jisung and Hyunjin a pointed glance.

Jisung grins far too widely than any human being should ever be capable of grinning, the smile on his face fit to split it in two. "Hey, hey, I didn't just see my little brother get engaged just so I could keep quiet about it," he reasons, ignoring Felix's affronted yell of 'less than a day!'. "Besides—if you're gonna be my brother-in-law, might as well get used to it!"

"I have no excuse, but I'm excited!" Hyunjin adds, his eyes curving with the brightness of his smile. Kkami yips again and Jeongin tries to fight down the grin that steals over his features anyway.

"...speaking of in-laws, I get that this takes you out of the frying pan of pursuers, but how is it going to help you keep your inheritance?" Changbin breaks it before holding his hands up disarmingly. "Not to be a downer, don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for you guys. Just confused."

Felix and Jeongin exchange a look at the elder of the pair grins, turning to face them. "Aside from the fact that Innie just pulled a proposal on me that I definitely wasn't expecting, I have been planning something myself...talked to a few counsellors about it—I'm transferring to business school. Initially it was in order to help Jeongin out with this whole dealing with public scrutiny and help Yang Enterprises regain its footing and all, but…" he drifts off, his eyes falling on Jeongin. "I guess it's gonna have to go a little different now."

Jisung's eyes widen. "Since when did you have any interest in business? Lixie, it was your dream to do film!"

"That's what I said too," Jeongin huffs. "We got into a whole argument about it that lasted for days. I told him it was stupid of him to give up his own ambitions for me."

"It's not just for you!" Felix immediately retorts sharply. "It's for me too! I can do so much more if I can learn how to use my potential! Your father used it for something bad, so why can't I take it and use it for the better? Besides, you deserve to be able to do what you want. And I'm not gonna let you suffer being around all those stuffy businesspeople."

Jeongin snickers behind a hand and jerks a thumb towards Felix as he raises a mischievous eyebrow. "Yeah, that's essentially what he said. Among other things, but I don't think it's time to give the whole structured debate."

Woojin claps his hands together, drawing their attention to him with a smile. "Well now that that's settled, I believe that this day really calls for a celebration." He smiles. "It'll be on me, in honour of winning our case, Jeongin and Felix's engagement, and making it through all of this alive."

"Sounds like a good reason to celebrate," Chan huffs with an affectionate smile directed towards them all as he reaches out to ruffle Seungmin's hair gently and pull him close for a moment. "We could all use some R&R."

Jeongin stands. "Why don't we just order something?" He suggests, hurrying back to his jacket to pull out his phone. "I really don't want to know if the press is out there waiting for us. Running away from them doesn't sound like the greatest way to celebrate." He tosses the device to Woojin, who catches it easily. 

"I don't know, running away from them while throwing things at them seems like it would be pretty amusing," Hyunjin chirps thoughtfully, tapping his lips with a slender finger. He pouts "But Woojin hyung says not to hurt people."

Jeongin smiles, scratching his cheek absently with a finger. "I guess everyone can feel free to look around while waiting as long as no one breaks anything."

"Of all the people I thought I'd hear that from, you weren't one of them," Changbin comments, not unkindly. He grins. "Things really do change, huh?" 

Jeongin returns the grin. "And when they do, we adapt."

As they disperse through the estate, some with more wonderment in their eyes than others, Jeongin catches Jisung by the arm and tugs him aside. "Hyung, there was something else in the will...Felix doesn't know about it, but I think you should," he murmurs softly, keeping his voice carefully out of earshot. When Jisung tenses he huffs softly. "It doesn't have anything to do with Lixie. It's about Minho hyung, actually."

The hesitation that slips into Jisung's gaze is conspicuous, and Jeongin just eases him away from the others, leading them both into a slow walk through an empty corridor. "Turns out, our father had a possession that he kept locked up...he gave his attorney the key and it was stated in the will that it would go to me." 

His voice resonates through the lonely corridor; the still lifes hanging undisturbed on the wall made it seem perhaps a little narrower than it really was. Jeongin echoes his previous, trepid footsteps from a time that seemed so long ago to the familiar, heavy door of his late father's study. He rests a hand on the knob and twists it, the metal releasing a groaning creak in complaint. As he pushes the door open, he's met with the intimidating darkness of the large office, and it takes him a few moments to gather his wits, calm his pulse, and step in, reaching for the wall to turn on the lights.

The study remained eerily serene, picturesque as it had been when he had first laid eyes on it despite the horrors that took place just one level below. The shelves still remained stocked with their books, a faint layer of dust shielding them from the neglect of the past weeks. As though the room itself was holding a tense breath, the air around them was tight, oppressive, and seething with an eldritch silence.

He glances back at Jisung, who had seized up upon seeing the office, doubtless recollecting the same horrible memories that pervaded through Jeongin's own mind of this place. It was regrettably something that would haunt them all for no short period of time. Jeongin draws in a soft breath, as he turns his eyes away from Jisung, deliberately padding through the study with barely a sound, as though any disturbance would upset the delicate, invisible balance that prevented them from toppling over the brink of panic. Jeongin approaches the desk and quietly sits himself down before it, his hand drifting down its elegant drawers.

"Jeongin...did we have to come here again?" Jisung asks nervously, his breaths somewhat laboured as he keeps close to the shelves, not daring to leave his back unguarded in the room although he and Jeongin were the only ones there. He flinches as the floorboards creak under his feet, his throat twisting and silencing him from making any further complaints.

Jeongin, brow furrowed, trails his fingers over the woodwork, shifting to the inside of the rest adjacent to his legs until he finds a keyhole. Nothing particularly big or notable, just prominent enough to prick his skin. He slides off the chair and peers under the desk to catch a better look at the fixture. Indeed, there rested a small, unassuming keyhole, outlined by a thin frame of bronze. 

Grabbing from his pocket a small, simple, steel key, Jeongin slides it carefully into the lock and turns it delicately until the clicking of the mechanism reaches his ears. He pulls open the compartment, cut so finely into the wood, grain matched to grain, so that one could not possibly notice its existence unless one knew it was there. The sight that meets his eyes causes his gaze to darken and his heart to pulse with just a little more unease than normal.

His blood races through his veins with the intensity of an individual trapped within a labyrinth as he reaches out to take the glass jar, its coldness shocking his nerves and sending a spike of apprehension to him as he carefully holds it close to his abdomen as though any wrong movements would cause it to drop and shatter. He carefully extracts himself out from under the desk and stares at Jisung with wide eyes, the container in his arms hugged so tightly to his chest, he could feel his heart pounding rhythmically against it.

The moment Jisung’s eyes zone in on the object in Jeongin’s arms, the blood drains from his face and his lips part, but no sound elicits from them. Jeongin lowers his head to stare, equally as stunned, into the glass, weighted down by the clear liquid contained within it, and resting in the liquid, a discoloured, sickly preservation of what both of them knew enough to understand was a heart. Jeongin would’ve at least assumed that he wouldn’t care as much, being told what he would find ahead of time, but to have it in his own hands left him feeling hollow and stricken with shock.

"Jeongin, is that…" Jisung's voice withers in his throat, the words that try to form on his tongue melting away. His eyes fix on the heart with a horrified fascination that would not allow him to look away. A part of him already knew what the younger's response would be, but he held on to that last shred of futile hope that it his suspicions would be unfounded.

Jeongin clenches the jar tighter to his chest if at all possible, his heart thudding painfully as it threatened to escape his ribcage. It was a familiar feeling, almost the same as when he had found that photograph in his father's desk, one of painful nostalgia that shouldn't exist, the harrowing sensation of missing something or someone he had never encountered to begin with. "It's... Minho hyung's. My father kept it because it was all he had of him once my mum got rid of all the photographs except the one he had in his desk."

Jisung's face takes on a sickly pallor. "That's...Innie that's messed up," he rasps, his voice catching in his throat. "I...why'd you want me to see that?" He closes his eyes "Why not Minho?"

Jeongin sighs and takes a step towards Jisung. Out of instinct, Jisung retreats a step in turn. Jeongin only advances until he's within arm's reach of Jisung. Reaching out, he proffers the heart to Jisung. "It's mine now. I can do what I want with it," he replies. "And I'm going to give it to you."

Jisung's eyes bulge and he scampers back, hands outstretched to prevent Jeongin from pushing the offending container onto him. "What? What the hell, Jeongin—you want me to literally take Minho's heart? That's even more messed up! What the hell am I supposed to do with—" He gesticulates vaguely and frantically at the jar.

Jeongin purses his lips. "Hyung, seriously," he insists, pushing the jar into Jisung's hands and forcing him to hold it "I...think you'll know what to do with it." Brow furrowed, he trudges past Jisung, heading for the door of the study without giving the elder a chance to respond. "Maybe the food's already here."

A wave of inexplicable fear comes over Jisung as he's left alone in the study and he rushes out, glass jar tightly held in his grip. Heart pounding against his chest and mind going blank, he crouches down on the floor in the corridor, trying to regulate his breaths and calm his racing heart. His arms clutch the jar tightly, eyes darting anywhere but to the object within it for fear of seeing that twisted proof of Minho's death.

Closing his eyes and struggling to bring his systems under control, Jisung finds himself backed into a corner, trapped between the apprehension of the unknown and the panic of past ghosts, both literal and figurative. He held in his hands something far more precious than anything he had ever possessed before, and yet he didn't want it. He wanted to keep it as far as humanly possible away from himself, but Jeongin had quite literally pushed it onto him and refused to recall it. 

They both knew what Jeongin meant when he had claimed that Jisung would know what to do with it; but Jisung didn't want anything to do with it. It frightened him, having something so tangible to shatter the illusions of his fragile relationship with the man. Minho was disappearing, and Jisung had in his hands the key to his fate. He didn't want it—he didn't want to have nothing to blame if he lost Minho for the second time.

"Jisung…?" A gasp. "Jisung, are you okay?" A familiar, cold hand rests itself on the nape of Jisung's neck and rubs gently. It takes a few moments for Jisung to gather himself, but when he finally lifts his head, it's to meet those beautiful catlike eyes glazed with concern. He flinches and lowers his head again, curling in on himself to hide the horrific evidence from Minho's line of sight.

"I'm...fine," he mutters, although he makes no move to uncurl himself, nor even move from where he was rooted to the floor.

He hears a sigh and feels the shift as Minho crouches down beside him, the man's hand never leaving his skin. "You don't look okay, Jisung. In case you didn't notice." Jisung shrinks away from Minho's gaze, disliking their proximity primarily because he didn't want Minho to see what he was hiding. A sigh passes the elder's lips. "Hey, Sung, is it really something that you can't tell me?"

Jisung's draws in an unsteady breath. "It's..not that. I...Minho—" Reluctantly, Jisung sits upright and opens his arms slightly to show Minho the jar. He stares up at the man, his eyes crinkled with the effort to not tear up. "How..how did you expect me to show you this?" Minho's eyes widen and he stops short, stiffening. Jisung laughs bitterly. "Yeah. I figured you'd react like that."

After a few moments of terse silence, Minho rubs Jisung's shoulder gently, a faint, wry smile crawling onto his lips. "Hey, you already have my heart, Lee Jisung, there's no need to actually take it too."

Jisung snorts and hugs the jar to his chest fighting down a grudging smile. Now was perhaps the least appropriate time to smile, but Minho just seemed to possess that superpower that made Jisung smile in the most inopportune situations. "Minho, this isn't the time for your godawful humour, damn it," he mutters. 

"Hey, I can flirt at inappropriate times if I want to," Minho huffs, affronted. "You're not the boss of me." His gaze softens. "Jisung...it's done. Everything is done. It doesn't bother me, seeing that. You don't have to hide it from me."

Jisung's eyes cloud over. Of course Minho wouldn't understand—the man had nothing to lose. Jisung himself had claimed that he wanted nothing more than to make the most of the time they had left. Asking for more was both impossible and selfish. Heart aching, Jisung offers Minho an uneven, tentative smile."Yeah…" He looks down at the heart in his arms. "I don't." 

He ducks his head, pouting, as Minho messes with his hair and leans in to peck his cheek with a slight smirk. "Don't look so bothered. We've both seen plenty of disturbing things lately, what's another organ?" He laughs at his own words and pushes himself to his feet, offering his hand to Jisung. "Come on, get up. I bet the food that Woojin ordered is here." He grins blithely. "You...might not want to bring that along with you though."

Cradling the jar in the crook of his elbow, Jisung reaches out to grasp Minho's hand, allowing the man to help him to his feet. He sways on his feet, the blood rushing down and knocking his balance off its centre. Minho steadies him with a hand on his hip and his chin hooked over his shoulder. The cold sensation of Minho's body presses against his back and he feels his face warm slightly. "Where should I leave it then?" He asks quickly.

"Hmm, I wonder," Minho singsongs. Jisung's lips purse into a line and he twists his head back to steal a kiss from the man in a quick, deft movement. A flare of victory lights in his chest as Minho stiffens, caught off guard by the bold act.

"I guess I'll just have to leave it in the study for now," Jisung chirps traipsing back into Mr. Yang's office without a second thought, leaving Minho staring blankly after him, stunned into silence. Minho huffs, a soft smile curling over his lips. He hides it behind a dimly glowing hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will indeed be the last one~  
> It's definitely been quite the ride, and I know I'll miss it once it's over °^°  
> Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read, and I hope you enjoyed <3  
> Until next time


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers, and welcome to the last chapter!  
> Because I will be quite busy with classes beginning again, I decided to update a little earlier than usual.  
> It's been quite the ride, and it's finally come to a close  
> I have much more to say, but let's get on with the story first~

"So...why was it necessary to cover my eyes again?"

As he strides blindfolded over the dewy grass, the familiar, whimsical, rich, and faintly floral scent of the woods seeps into Jisung's perception. So caught up he is in his surroundings that he barely notices his unsteady footsteps. With a yelp, Jisung near stumbles over what felt suspiciously like a root, but a cold arm loops around his waist and hoists him back onto his feet. The blindfold over his eyes slips down his head ever so slightly, allowing for slivers of light to creep into his vision. He huffs and rests a hand on Minho's arm gently, careful to not touch him too roughly and risk perforating his appendage entirely.

"Because...just because," Changbin calls out from somewhere ahead of them, his voice laced with some kind of nervousness hidden behind a faux displeasure. "So if you two are done with the PDA…"

Jisung grins widely, mischievously as he takes another tentative step forward, careful to test the uneven ground before resting his weight on his foot. "Single Pringle and just as salty, huh?" He remarks offhandedly, earning a snort from someone beside him whom Jisung identifies as Seungmin.

"Just keep walking," Seungmin bites playfully, prodding Jisung in the ribs and making him squirm, nearly tripping over another gnarl in the ground. 

"Hey, Min? If you wanted to kill me, could you find like, a cooler way to do it?" Jisung huffs. 

"Let's not kill anyone instead. Good idea, right?" Chan drawls patronizingly and Jisung can almost hear Hyunjin's pout from somewhere behind him although the blindfold still obscures most of his vision. 

"Excellent idea," Woojin agrees, a smile in his voice. 

"We're here!" Changbin calls from ahead of them. 

Jisung frowns and reaches up to the lopsided blindfold over his eyes. "Then can I remove it now?" He asks, already hooking impatient fingers over the material, prepared to yank it down.

A rumbling laugh sounds from somewhere close to him. "Yeah, go ahead, Sungie."

A warm, spring breeze caresses Jisung's skin as he tugs off the blindfold, blinking owlishly at the familiar, lush, green grass beneath him to brings his vision to focus. He lifts his head and his eyes widen, his lips parting in a silent gasp. Sunlight dances over his skin and over the clearing, slightly larger than he recalled it. In the midst of it stood the cabin, restored to its former state. Its walls, now painted a clean white were encroached by picturesque vines of cream-coloured honeysuckle and it's windows and doors were replaced entirely. Jisung gawps at the sight for a few moments, speechless.

"I—Changbin, you did this?" Jisung manages to vocalize after a small while of opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

A pair of arms throw themselves around him, nearly barrelling him onto the grass, and Jisung feels a grin naturally pull itself onto his lips as he's left with an armful of blonde, freckled, and grinning brightly. "Most of us pitched in to help! Jeonginnie funded the renovation project, Changbin hyung did the redesigning—it's meant to look like it did in the beginning!" Felix rambles excitedly. "Hyunjin helped with some of the utility work and the rest of us pitched in with getting new furniture and other things." 

"And you never told me?" Jisung gasps. "That's a lot of work, you know. I could've helped."

“That would defeat the point of the surprise,” Jeongin points out with a grin. “We wanted to surprise Lixie too, but…” he drifts off sheepishly.

“I kind of overheard it…?” Felix tries.

“Jeongin couldn’t keep it a secret because he was too excited about it so he told you, didn’t he?” Jisung deduces.

Minho snorts and nods while Jeongin rubs the back of his neck ruefully, eyes averted and a faint pink of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Bingo, you win the grand prize,” Minho deadpans, his gaze drifting over to the revamped cabin. “I was in on it too...helped out with a bit of the landscaping. I didn’t really want them to do this, but they insisted on it.” 

Jisung’s face splits into a wide smile and he pats Felix’s arms, which are still thrown rather tightly about his shoulders. “Well, I’m glad they did. It’s…” he runs his eyes over the neatened fixtures, looking far less rickety and far more safe than previously. “Perfect, honestly.” He laughs almost giddily, his voice tightening in his throat. “But it must have been expensive—”

“Nothing a bit of money couldn’t pay off,” Felix hums cheerily. “Innie has his inheritance, remember? And his dad was like one of the richest men in the country.”

“Technically it’s you who has the inheritance, Lixie,” Jeongin points out, only for the blonde to wave him off breezily.

“Details, details—you did say it was yours by proxy, right?” Felix giggles, releasing Jisung. “Either way, it was nothing, Sungie. 

Jisung’s gaze shifts from Felix to Jeongin, and he reaches out to prod his adoptive brother’s cheek none too gently with a finger. “Hey, Innie, put a limit on his credit so he doesn’t try pulling anything stupid, okay? Promise.” 

“Promise,” Jeongin agrees solemnly, extending a pinky out to him. Jisung’s fingers shift to pinch Felix’s cheek with one hand as he hooks the pinky of his other around Jeongin’s.

“Good.” 

Felix finally manages to smack Jisung’s hand away with a pout and a slightly reddened left cheek from where Jisung had pinched him. “Remind me to never do anything nice for you, Sung. I do good things and only receive pain in return,” he bemoans. 

Jisung cocks an eyebrow with him. “I think you’ve been hanging around Hyunjin too much, Lixie,” he hums.

“Let’s fight!” Hyunjin chirps, launching himself forward and slinging his arms around Felix and Jisung’s shoulders, dragging them with him with a formidable wrench.

“Let’s not!” Chan interjects quickly, pushing them apart. He presents Jisung with a key and a warm smile. “But what we can do is go see the inside of the place.” He tilts his head slightly. “It’ll look different, but it’s definitely a lot more convenient than it was beforehand.”

“I suggested childproofing, but they decided not to do that,” Seungmin inputs unhelpfully from where he stands behind with Woojin to his left. Jisung hadn’t been the only one who needed guidance through the forest path—Seungmin had scratched himself on quite a few branches by misjudgment, so they had settled on having someone at his side for that time to prevent it.

Jisung stares back at him silently for a few moments before grabbing the keys from Chan’s hand and sidling over to him, dropping them into his burnished, half-red hand. “You do the honours, Seungminnie,” he chirps, grabbing the brunette’s shoulders and herding him forwards, catching him off guard.

“Wh—Jisung, it’s your house!” 

“Which means my rules!” Jisung hums, prodding Seungmin up the small flight of stairs and across the veranda. “And I say you open it.” 

Seungmin’s shoulders fall and he rolls his eyes. “There’s just no pleasing you, is there? And for a moment I thought this would be been worth skipping my lecture...” He approaches the wooden door and runs a hand over the lock before carefully slipping the key into it and twisting. With a click, the door unlocks and Seungmin pushes it open. 

Throwing his arms around Seungmin, Jisung squeezes enthusiastically. “You all are the best. Seriously.” He kicks off his shoes and steps into a pair of slippers, padding over the fuzzy rug at the entrance and staring around, wide-eyed with amazement. The subtle fragrance of sandalwood drifts through the air, and Jisung grins. He runs to the sofa, a plush, warm orange thing and jumps onto it, grabbing one of the brown throw pillows and hugging it to his chest. The entire area is filled with a sensation of warmth and welcome, a far cry from the cracked and peeling walls beforehand. The bookshelves are both replaced and restocked, and Jisung spots a few of his favourite titles sitting on the shelves between carved bookends of grand, venerable trees. A dark, wooden coffee table with intricate woodworkings sits between the sofas and chairs, and Jisung grins as he finds an empty sketchbook resting atop it. A gas fireplace fixes itself in the large living room area, and Jisung’s eyes widen.

Catching sight of his surprise, Seungmin laughs and sits himself down beside him. “Yeah, that’s right. You have to pay bills now—” he informs, only to be silenced by Jisung’s finger on his lips. 

“Shhh—shush, hush, quiet,” Jisung hisses. He pauses for a few moments of pregnant silence with his eyes closed before opening them and relaxing back into the soft cushioning of the sofa. “I need to let the good stuff sink in first, Minnie, no need to be a killjoy.” 

It earns him another affectionate eyeroll from the man, and as the rest of his friends flood into the room and make themselves comfortable on the chairs, the other sofa, the rug, Jisung’s eyes brighten with emotion. He hugs the pillow tighter and smiles stupidly wide. 

“No need to be sappy, Sung,” Changbin interjects before he has the chance to say anything. “You’re welcome.” 

Jisung pokes his tongue out at the shorter man. “Well maybe I wasn’t going to thank you,” he huffs. He pouts. "I was going to thank you all so shut up and let me thank you all," he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He looks from one face to the next, and it strikes him just how much they had all changed in a matter of months. The sapling of maturity rested in the lines at the corners of their eyes and mouths. They were branded with brutal reminders of the past months, whether in the form of burn scars, bullet scars, blade scars, or the less visible kind of scars that had been torn afresh just when they had begun to heal. The soreness that many of them would wake up with in the colder months was a bitter reminder of a past suffering and a stubborn trophy of victory. Their victory.

A searing flame of pride burns brightly in Jisung's chest. "Guys...thanks." he holds up a hand before anyone could make a scathing comment, namely a certain Hwang Hyunjin whose mouth was dangerously close to opening. "I don't know what I'd have done without all of you. Seriously. It's been crazy."

"It wasn't just you," Woojin interjects mildly. "We were all inevitably going to become part of this the moment we met. What matters is that we survived it. Together." A smile paints itself onto his features. "We've grown. Even if we were a little beaten and broken along the way, look at us now."

Changbin huffs and grins slightly, fingers naturally drifting to toy with his eyebrow piercing. "But I honestly think that I speak for all of us when I say let's not get caught in any messes like that again. One time is already one too many."

Hyunjin frowns and nods seriously, throwing his arm over the shorter man's shoulders. "He's right. Getting hurt doesn't feel good." Hyunjin raises a finger and twirls it absently through the air. "And all of you getting hurt feels worse," he admits, his brow creasing slightly. "I'm happy you're all alive."

"And we're happy that you're alive too, Hyunjinnie," Felix replies in turn. "Being alive…I guess I took it for granted. I'm not going to make that mistake again." His eyes darken, but soon regain their vibrancy as Jeongin's fingers slip through the gaps between his own, the younger holding his hand loosely with a sweet smile.

"Let's all not take it for granted. We did something big, didn't we? We may not have gotten rid of the whole problem, but we got rid of a big part of it. We're capable of things like this.” Jeongin squeezes Felix’s hand, his eyes catching on the glittering band upon his finger for the briefest of moments before shifting to face the rest of them. “We’re capable of things like this.”

A grin steals over Jisung’s lips. “I guess nothing’s ever going to be that exciting any more, though,” he muses.

“If, by exciting, you mean terrifying and a situation in which we escaped with our lives by the skin of our teeth, then no. Nothing will ever be that ‘exciting’ again,” Seungmin drawls from beside him. “And let’s keep it that way, please and thanks. I’ve had enough ‘excitement’ to last a lifetime.” 

Jisung puffs out his cheeks childishly. “I can hear your air quotations, Min.” 

“I’m not trying to be subtle, Sung.” 

The pair stare at each other silently for a few moments before Seungmin instinctively shrinks away just as Jisung falls forward to wrap his arms around him. Jisung flops onto the couch cushion with a huff while Seungmin glances back at Chan, who had instinctively circled an arm around him to prevent him from losing his balance and tumbling off the couch. A soft look enters his eye, but he quickly sits upright again, fixing his lopsided eyepatch.

Felix bursts into a fit of baritone laughter and hops to his feet, only to dart over to them and plop himself down on Jisung’s back, hugging him tightly and sufficiently winding him. “It’s good to be home, Sungie.” 

And Jisung can’t even bring himself to be offended as they gather around, arms wrapping around each other in what could possibly be the warmest group hug that they’ve ever shared. He laughs and sits up, hugging Felix on his left and Seungmin on his right, eyes twinkling at the happiness plastered over his friends’ faces. “It’s good to be home,” he agrees. 

He pauses and takes in the sight once more only to notice a missing face. With a frown, he glances out over the area to find Minho watching them from the entrance of the living room, a smile on his lips, but a subdued light in his eyes. Jisung’s lips press into a thin, irritated line and he storms away from his friends, reaching out and grabbing Minho by the wrist to drag him, if necessary, into their hug.

His eyes widen as his fingers slip right through Minho’s wrist to clench around thin air, and his heart freezes in his chest. An awkward silence proceeds between them.

Jisung reaches out once again, gentler this time, and delicately takes Minho’s translucent hand in his own. He tugs the man towards their friends and wraps his arm around him. "You're part of this just as much as we are." Jisung smirks. "Don't think you can escape that easily."

An unreadable look flutters over Minho's eyes, but dissipates just as quickly as it had materialized. He purses his lips. "If I knew this is what I was getting into, I'd have thought twice," he remarks, an underlying affection in his voice.

"Well, too bad, hyung," Jeongin hums. "We've got you hook, line, and sinker." 

"I suppose you have," Minho grudgingly agrees, letting Seungmin wrap a careful arm around him from his other side. The warmth that emanated from them was almost enough for him to feel for the second time, the strange, thrumming under his skin comforting. He can't quite hide his smile. "I'll admit, I'm happy I got to meet all of you."

"And we're happy we got to know you," Chan replies for all of them, a gentle smile on his features. "And that we were able to clear your name."

An aching well of pride fills Minho's empty chest and his grip on Jisung and Seungmin tightens ever so slightly as he meets Chan's eyes. "I'll always be grateful for that," he states firmly. "I never even thought it was a possibility." He relaxes. "I'm still a bit surprised you guys somehow managed to pull it off."

"Dream team~" Hyunjin crows and Minho turns his smiling eyes onto the taller man.

"Maybe," he hums.

Jisung's eyes bug. "Wow, you weren't sarcastic about that? Miracles really do happen!" He gasps.

"Don't get used to it," Minho retorts, flicking him on the forehead. Jisung pouts and Minho leans closer to him, pecking the area that he had flicked. When he pulls back, Jisung's ears are painted a rather vibrant shade of red.

"Right, right, I guess you can break in your newly furnished house or whatever," Seungmin announces rather loudly, breaking apart from the group hug and striding towards the door. 

Hyunjin happily traipses over to him with a nonchalant wave, grabbing Woojin's hand on his way to the door and half-pulling the man along in his wake. "Yeah, break it in," he echoes, the words a little too drawled to not have some subliminal messages that Jisung was blatantly choosing to ignore at the moment.

"You guys are leaving already?" Jisung interjects with a frown. "Don't you wanna stay for lunch?"

Hyunjin waves him off cheerily. "It's ditch-classes-to-walk-Kkami time," he excuses. "Can't be late for that!" Woojin purses his lips at that, but chooses to remain silent, instead sparing Chan a glance.

Chan catches the look that Woojin sends his way and chuckles, striding past them as well, resting a hand on Seungmin's shoulder as he too makes his way for the door. "We can come back for dinner," he decides. "You should make yourself comfortable here. You're going to be living here, after all. Besides, I need to head back to work."

As Felix, Changbin and Jeongin follow them, Jisung crosses his arms over his chest. "Hold up, Lixie, why're you going off?"

The blonde takes his fingers through his hair with a rueful, lopsided grin. "Gotta do all that fun homework," he dismisses “I have a lot to catch up on. "And then I’m off to dance practice with Hyunjinnie and the gang.” 

“I’m going to let you go because I know you have a lot of stuff to do,” Jisung tells Jeongin, but then raises his eyebrow at Changbin. “But you don’t have any classes or appointments today—what’s your excuse?”

Changbin just shrugs, not a shred of remorse on his features as he responds, “You two just look like you have a lot to talk about.” His gaze lands on Minho, who gives him a rather pointedly displeased look, and he offers the man a rather impudent smile. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m doing you a favour, hyung.” 

Jisung blinks owlishly as the door shuts behind Changbin, leaving him alone in the house with Minho staring just as dumbfounded at the now empty house. Jisung turns to eye Minho. “I guess it’s just you and me,” he remarks, his voice drifting off into silence as Minho barely dignifies his words with a response. He sighs and flops down on the sofa once again, closing his eyes. 

“It’s quiet,” Minho remarks calmly, and Jisung feels the cushion dip ever so slightly as Minho settles down beside him. He opens his eyes a sliver and glances at the man.

Minho no longer held a solid form as he had once. Jisung could see the lines of the sofa and the floor through his frame, and his body was as corporeal as water, able to bear some tension, but otherwise insubstantial. He...looked like a ghost.

“Just thinking about everything…” he murmurs. “It’s still hard to believe that everything...happened. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.” His half-lidded gaze shifts to the ceiling. “I...still haven’t forgiven my parents for what they did to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.” Closing his eyes, Jisung breathes out a sigh. “Maybe when they’re finished their time in prison I’ll feel different.” 

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Minho hums. “No one expects you to. And no one would blame you if you can’t. I haven’t forgiven my stepmother, and I don’t think I ever will. But I’m grateful that she brought Jeongin into the world...and that she was technically the reason I met you. As selfish as that is.”

A slow smile travels its way across Jisung’s lips at that as he turns to eye Minho. “I’m happy that you’re thinking of how you feel. You’re allowed to do that as much as I am. And honestly, maybe I should be grateful for that much, at least.”

“I’m glad I got to meet all of you. And you again. I’m glad I got this second chance,” Minho admits softly.

Jisung sits upright and opens his eyes properly, turning to fix his gaze on Minho. A wave of something he couldn’t quite decipher washes over him and he reaches out to wrap Minho in his arms, gently enough to not disrupt his fragile apparition. The thin, wispy coldness of Minho’s touch creeps across his back as he feels Minho’s arms snake around his own figure after a few moments.

“What’s up with you, Jisung?” Minho asks gently, the seemingly ever-present tinge of playful mockery colouring his voice. He reaches up to play with the tips of Jisung’s slightly disheveled hair, rolling the strands between his fingers as he stares past the younger and at the wall. “You’re clingier than usual today.” 

“Shut up, you’re clingy too,” Jisung mutters, closing his eyes once again as he buries his face in Minho’s shoulder. “Just be a good pillow and let me hug.” 

Minho buries his hand in Jisung’s hair entirely and tugs his head back gently to meet Jisung’s eyes with a faint smirk. “Well what if I want to do more than hug, hm? What’ll you do about that?”

An embarrassing squeak elicits from Jisung’s lips as Minho’s hand pushes him onto his back on the sofa and he reaches up to grip Minho’s striped button up. Unease coils alongside a gentle yearning in his gut as he stares up at Minho’s translucent, glowing face, his eyes running down the man’s delicate features. “Well maybe I’ll let you do that.” He breathes in slowly before pulling on Minho’s shirt, urging the man to lean down and meet his waiting lips.

It’s almost as though he’s kissing mist; cool, gentle and evanescent. Jisung’s fist tightens around the fabric of Minho’s shirt and he lets his head fall back, breaking the kiss abruptly for the tightness in his throat that refused to let him breathe. There must have been a grimace written on his face because the look that Minho spares him when he meets his gaze is one of concern.

“Sung, are you—”

“I’m okay...I’m okay,” Jisung repeats, his voice muted and somewhat distant, as though trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Minho sits back and takes his hand, pulling him upright. “I keep telling you not to hide things from me. What’s bothering you?” he asks directly, softly as though speaking to a frightened animal.

Jisung stares down at their hands. “Nothing important,” he replies after a moment’s deliberation. He rises to his feet. I haven’t seen the rest of this place. You have, right?” He glances back at Minho, concealing his misgivings beneath a mock-flamboyance. “You have, so you can give me the tour.” 

A smirk creeps back onto Minho’s lips although he rolls his eyes as he rises to his feet. “Your call.”

* * *

“—and this is the crack in the wall that used to house a family of mice five years ago. As you can see, it’s been filled in and painted over, and wow, would you look at that, a pretty little wall-mounted shelf is hammered into it! Hyunjin’s idea, if I remember correctly. I’m sure he wanted to see you break more things on accident…” Minho drawls, motioning to the shelf, upon which rested a potted succulent. His voice drips with a dangerous layer of sarcasm, which had impressively maintained itself despite the fact that they had spent nearly two hours on the lobby, kitchen, living room and broom closet alone.

Jisung groans, cheek squished against the wall as he trudges upstairs behind Minho. “You know, when I said give me the tour, I didn’t mean give me the twenty-year history and industrialization lecture along with it,” he whines. 

“Not like you specified,” Minho chirps, sounding far too pleased with himself. 

Jisung crosses his arms over his chest. “Well I’m specifying it now. Please, I don’t think I can take any more—I didn’t know you were capable of talking this much.”

Minho huffs and spins on his heel as they reach the second floor. He cocks an eyebrow at the younger. “You’ve known me for this long—you’re my _boyfriend_ for heaven’s sake—and you didn’t know I could talk this much? You should be ashamed of yourself, Lee Jisung,” he accuses. His dark expression is only able to hold itself for a few seconds before melting into an amused smile. “Have it your way—I’ll stop.” 

“Oh my _gosh_ I love you,” Jisung groans, slumping into a pile of Jisung, half-sprawled on the stairs and half-sprawled on the tessellated runner rug in the hallway. 

Laughing, Minho reaches down to pull Jisung back onto his feet. His laughter cuts off abruptly as his hand passes through the brunette’s arm entirely. He jerks back as though he had been burnt and bites his lip, eyes darkening once more. 

Jisung, raises his head and catches sight of the sombre expression imprinted on the man’s face. Immediately, he scrambles to his feet and steps onto the floor. “What’s wrong?”

Minho looks at Jisung and then down at his hand silently. Understanding dawns in Jisung’s gaze and weighs down in his chest. He reaches out to hold Minho’s hands in his own with such gentleness that he may as well have been touching a spider’s web. Minho’s fingers tighten around his hands, but Jisung barely feels it, almost as though it were nothing more than a shift in the air.

He swallows and meets Minho’s gaze once more only for his eyes to widen when he sees a familiar, glassy shimmer in the man’s catlike eyes. Minho turns his head away, but Jisung glimpses a wispy tear escaping his eyes and catching on his delicate lashes. It breaks and trails down Minho’s cheek in a crystalline rivulet. 

Jisung steps forward, his hand rising to rest on Minho’s arm. Goosebumps of distress rise on his skin as his hand passes through the appendage. He tries once again, calming himself enough to control the roughness of his movements, and this time holds Minho’s arm cautiously. “Minho, are you okay?”

“Yes, dumbass, of course I’m okay,” Minho huffs, his voice cracking as a few more of the shining droplets of water fall from where they weighed down his long lashes. “What makes you think I’m not…?”

Jisung’s heart twists painfully within his ribcage. Minho knew what was happening. They both knew what was happening, but Jisung had selfishly avoided the subject at every available opportunity. He had refused to consider the possibility that Minho would be affected by it as well. Jisung swallows thickly and shakes his head, stepping closer to Minho, almost sealing off any proximity between them. He barely feels a thing. Minho’s body was still visible, clearly there, but with each touch, he was growing less and less tangible.

“You’re...you’re not,” Jisung whispers in a feeble attempt to hide the tremor that races through his voice. Minho laughs, but his mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. Jisung frowns, his brow furrowing. “Minho—”

“Lee Jisung, I’m fine,” Minho interjects sharply, brushing away the tears that didn’t want to desist with his knuckles. “I...this is what I’ve wanted for twenty-one years now. I’m fine, just—”

Jisung sighs. “Are you really…?”

After a few moments of silence, Minho shakes his head slowly. “I…” he drifts off. “I wanted to be with all of you longer. I wanted to be with you longer,” he whispers, hiding his eyes behind his hand. 

Jisung swallows dryly and a slight smile twists itself onto his lips. “You know, if you went with a lie, I swear I would have never forgiven you.”

Minho grabs Jisung’s arms, only for his fingers to sink through Jisung’s flesh. His eyes widen, and his fingers seize as though his body itself had frozen solid “I don’t want to disappear, Jisung,” he hisses, an underlying desperation lacing his words. “I don’t want—I’ll never see you again!” Minho’s lips press into a taut line. “I lost you once before, If I lose you this time, I lose you forever—” his voice cracks. 

Jisung feels the sting of hot tears at the edges of his vision but he stubbornly blinks them away. Of all the things that Minho had done, he had never cried in Jisung’s presence. But for him to break that threshold now… Jisung draws in a breath. "You're not losing me," he insists firmly, grasping Minho's hand with care. "I'm still here."

"But I won't be," Minho points out eyeing their hands. "I...should've been able to pass on already—I've done what I was supposed to do, so why am I disappearing?" His jaw tightens. "Jisung…"

It takes Jisung a moment to gather his resolve, but when he finally does, he squares his shoulders and stares Minho in the eye. "I don't know. I don't know anything about it, but I'll be damned if the last memories we have of each other are sad ones. If the last memories I have of you are sad ones." Jisung offers him a red-eyed smile and releases his hand, stepping down a stair. "Walk with me…?"

Minho's lips part in a ready argument, but they soon snap shut, and he only nods, wiping his eyes and following Jisung's steps as the younger man leads them towards the door of the cabin. Pausing, Jisung grabs the keys from a hook by the door and pockets them. 

He opens the door and Minho pads out first. The sun, although descending steadily, shone bright in the clear sky, and Jisung stares at Minho as the man treads out over the green grass that had grown back lavishly on the ashes from the fire. As Minho glances back at him, waiting, the sun illuminates his figure and light traps itself within his body, making Minho glow brighter than he already was: an ethereal embodiment of light.

Jisung falls into step with Minho, lacing their fingers together. Perhaps, for the first time since they had met again, Minho’s touch was warm, stealing the sun’s energy itself into his hollow body and radiating that dusky warmth. It spreads itself over Jisung’s body, embracing him with a single touch and filling his insides with a pervasive melancholia that he fights down with considerable effort.

Minho turns to eye him quietly as they stride down a familiar path, strewn with shrivelled leaves from last autumn and the fleeting petals of the trees that had blossomed for spring. It wasn’t difficult to see that the younger was hiding the magnitude of whatever he was feeling. Jisung’s eyes tended to give away things that he tried desperately to hide. And Minho couldn’t blame him for it—he himself was the same.

He shifts his gaze forward, the smallest of smiles creeping over his lips. He had never thought that there would come a day where he wouldn’t want to leave this plane of existence. It had been a trench of lies, extending far and narrow, trapping him in a tunnel that only allowed him to see what he had been trained to see. And it had remained that way until he re-encountered Jisung and his friends, and learned to see more than a singular goal.

The evening breeze breathes colder on them as the sun dips farther into the trees, slipping through the flower-adorned branches to gently dapple the forest floor. Minho’s steps leave less and less of an indent on the ground that he steps on, and he naturally moves closer to Jisung, falling into perfect step with him as naturally as breathing.

Jisung too finds himself caught amidst the tranquility, the rustling of the leaves and whispered chatter of the woodland creatures that provided them with the music to accompany their aimless journey. He closes his eyes and draws in a breath, his fingers tightening slightly around Minho’s glowing hand. It doesn’t give way so easily.

They could have been strolling for hours as easily as they could have for minutes, time losing itself to both of them in their own little quiet world where nothing and no one existed apart from them. When they finally slow to a stop, it’s where the trees clear to reveal a familiar promontory overlooking the gorge where the river ran steadily with a constant, restless whisper. Minho’s eyes crinkle and his lips part to reveal a grin. “...you remembered.” 

“Your favourite place?” Jisung returns the grin. “Hell yeah, I did.” he steps out onto the lush, dew-kissed grass, his eyes drifting to the jar that he had left there only a few days before. It remained untouched on the wet grass, droplets of condensation dried onto the transparent surface and its contents floating in a perfect, grotesque serenity. He huffs softly. “I visited this place a bit back to think. About a lot of things.”

“Lee Jisung, thinking? Why, whatever will they come up with next,” Minho teases. He catches sight of the heart and he sighs. “Thinking about that?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung hums, settling down on the grass and pulling his knees to his chest. He glances back at Minho and pats the grass beside himself. “It was where I finally got to know more about you than just grumpy paranormal guy who appeared randomly in my house.”

“If anyone was the grumpy one, it was definitely you,” Minho disagrees, settling down on the grass beside Jisung, his figure dimming along with the fading sunlight as indigo bleeds into the sky, dyeing the clouds a warm gradient of orange, yellow and peach. “You threatened to hit me with a pipe. You threw me out of the house. And it was technically mine!”

“Technically, maybe. Legally? Nope.” Jisung leans back, resting his weight against his palms on the feathery grass as he squints at the vibrant sunset. “That seems like so long ago now…” he drifts off.

Minho’s hand shifts to rest over Jisung’s, the warmth from before having disappeared entirely. The familiar coldness of his touch entices Jisung, and he laces his fingers through Minho’s with an instinctive gentleness this time. Minho smiles, his eyes lowering down to the river, water glimmering in fractals of silver as it reflects the light from above. “It was too short,” he disagrees softly, his voice nearly disappearing with the wind. “Life just started moving a lot faster once all of you were part of it.”

Jisung turns to watch Minho once more, eyes running over his finely sculpted features, prominent even when his face no longer held the same clarity that it had once upon a time. His lashes no longer cast delicate shadows on his skin; his skin no longer had lines or blemishes. His glow was dimming and his substance was almost nonexistent. It had been a miracle in itself that he had lasted this long to begin with, but Jisung was grateful for each moment. 

“It’d really be too much to ask for it to last longer…?” Jisung muses quietly.

Minho glances down at himself and breathes out a resigned sigh. “It looks like it.” He releases Jisung’s hand in favour of stretching his arms straight ahead and flexing his fingers absently. Jisung catches glimpses of the treetops in front of them through Minho’s translucent fingers. He winces and shifts closer to Minho. 

“...I don’t want you to go,” he admits. “But...I don't want you to disappear for good. I think I’ve figured it out.” 

Minho turns to stare at him blankly, confusion written on his features. "Figured what out?"

Jisung rises to his feet and pads closer to the edge of the plateau, reaching down to retrieve the jar containing Minho's deadened, preserved heart. "I promised you, right? I promised you I'd give you a proper funeral." He hugs the jar to his chest. "Your body is...gone now, but I have this."

Minho's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Weren't you going to 'throw me in a hole for a bit and then dig me out'?" he reminds, raising his hands to make air quotations. 

"Shush, small details," Jisung huffs. He returns to Minho and kneels down on the damp grass at his side. "Maybe if I fulfill my promise you'll finally be at peace," he muses, scrabbling at the soft earth with his fingers. 

"You're...really going to just dig a hole right now? With your hands?" Minho remarks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

Jisung lifts his head to offer Minho a smile. "If I can save you like you've saved me so many times now, then getting my hands dirty is a pretty small price to pay, don't you think?" He shrugs. "Maybe I'm trying to help myself find peace too, you know."

It's an oddly lighthearted exchange of words for a matter so sombre, but neither of them would have had it differently. And as Jisung delves into the earth, his vision blurs and his hands move of their own accord. He draws in a shaking breath and pauses before resuming with a will.

"...what is this?" Minho suddenly and sharply breaks in. Jisung pauses and glances up at the man to find his features twisted into a chagrined frown. Minho reaches out to the younger and carefully brushes away the teardrops that clung to his cheeks. Jisung hadn't even realized those were there. "If you're going to keep a promise, I don't want you to cry while doing it," Minho scolds.

"Hey, if you're allowed to be sad and cry about leaving, I can be sad and cry about having to let you go," Jisung laughs, his voice cracking mid-sentence. "Although I'd rather lose you now and see you again on the other side instead of keeping you here for a little while and never seeing you again...maybe I've started liking your stupid pretty face too much, Minho." He leans into the near intangible touch, only able to trust his sight to assure him Minho was still there. He could barely feel Minho's hands against his skin, the man's touch nothing more than a calm breeze.

"Oh, I see, you only like me for my handsome face?" Minho teases gently despite himself, his large eyes glossing over as he runs his thumb over Jisung's cheek.

Jisung snorts, swiping at his eyes with the back of his wrist. "I can't believe I'm going to miss your godawful personality too," he huffs. He eyes Minho, drinking in the sight of the man as though he were parched, burning every detail into his memory. "You're so damn imperfect, Minho."

The elder of the pair lets out a bark of amused laughter. "I didn't agree to walk with you just to be insulted, Lee Jisung. It's not like you're much better." Nonetheless, an affectionate glimmer sparkles in his gaze.

In response, Jisung only pokes his tongue out childishly. He purses his lips and prods at the dense earth of the hole he had scoured into the ground. "It wasn't your face," he hums. "You were...comfortable. You were just there and eventually I couldn't imagine you not being there. It was just...natural. Wanting to love you."

Minho's eyes soften and he grins, holding Jisung's head in his hands carefully. "Shut up, squirrel, or I'll start crying again. I'll miss you and your incessant stupidity."

"And I'll miss your stupid...condescending...attitude?" Jisung tries before huffing and resuming his task of creating a shallow excavation in the dense dirt. "Just let me do my thing…" he scrapes a last handful of soil out and sets it aside with a sigh. Holding up his dirtied hands, he smiles at Minho. "See, I can do things properly."

"Hardly. I wouldn't call this a funeral at all," Minho responds with a scathing tone in his voice despite the gentle expression on his translucent features.

Jisung nods and retrieves the jar, eyeing the discoloured heart within it. "That's because it isn't one, dumbass," he huffs quietly. "Funerals are goodbyes. This isn't goodbye, this is just see you later." He lowers the jar carefully into the dirt and smiles. "So you'd better wait for me, okay?"

Minho snorts. "Still as childish as ever, eh, Lee Jisung?"

"Maybe," Jisung agrees. "But I'll wait too."

"No, you won't," Minho interjects suddenly, and Jisung glances at him with a puzzled light in his eyes. Minho shakes his head firmly. "You'll find someone else who is alive. You'll deserve them and they'll deserve you. You'll move on and live the life you deserve. You're not waiting. You have better things to do."

When Jisung's mouth opens to argue, Minho rests a finger on his lips. "I'll wait for you," he promises. "So when I see you, I want to hear all the stories of the things you've done...stupid or otherwise. I want to hear about the people you've met and the ones you fell in love with. When I see you again, we'll have all the time in the world to get sick of each other, so you'd better have interesting stories to tell. Okay?"

After a few moments of unresponsive silence, Jisung relaxes and nods. "Promise," he hums, holding out his soiled pinky. A glowing finger curls around his appendage and Minho smiles.

"Good."

Jisung gently pats the dirt over the jar, obscuring it from view just as the sun slips behind its blanket of trees entirely, painting the sky in a fiery red that all too soon shifts to a purplish black and dusts itself in stars. Jisung breathes out a sigh and rests his hand flat over the small burial site. His eyes gloss over as he sees the dim outline of a hand resting over his own.

He raises his head to find Minho leaning closer to him, almost transparent now, his own brightness resting with the sun. Unlike the sun, it wouldn't appear again, and Jisung, despite himself, can't hold back the tears that flood his eyes and trail down his cheeks once again.

Minho clucks his tongue. "What is this, crying again, Lee Jisung?" He huffs softly.

Jisung swipes a hand over his eyes and glares at Minho. "Says the one that's crying too," he accuses, and indeed, barely visible in the rapidly proliferating darkness, were those crystalline tears, escaping the delicate corners of large, catlike eyes. 

Minho laughs, the sound sonorous and clear, although his body faded just a fraction more with each passing moment. "I'll miss you, Sungie."

"I'll miss you too, Minho," Jisung whispers, leaning closer to him. He almost needed to strain to see him at all now.

It's Minho who seals the gap between them, pressing his lips sweetly to Jisung's, and although his touches were nonexistent to Jisung's perception, his kiss seared itself into Jisung's memory like the soft frigidity of an untouched, fresh snow. He closes his eyes.

"I need to go now...don't come see me for a long time," Minho reminds him in a whisper, and when he opens his eyes, he's met with cold, thin air. 

A wave of grief crashes against him. They had parted on good terms, but he would miss Minho terribly, there was no helping that. Although he trusted that he would see him again, his absence brought with it a painful wound that would not heal for a long while. Jisung curls in on himself, knees pulled to his chest, and sobs. He cries until his shoulders tremble with exhaustion, until his tears run dry and he no longer has the energy to cry any longer.

When he finally rises to his feet, the sky glitters with stars that watch over him, offering their frail light as he turns on his heel shakily and pads through the forest, alone this time. A hollowness leaves him feeling at a loss for breath, but a gentle wave flows over his skin in an odd sensation of sadness and a persistent, comforting warmth.

As he strides closer to his home, he catches sight of a familiar SUV parked at the edge of the clearing. The lights in the house gleam warmly, and merry voices and animated barks can be heard disrupting the otherwise silent night. Jisung draws in a breath and approaches the door, lifting his keys and unlocking the door. As he steps in and removes his shoes, he's nearly knocked over by a familiar pair of arms wrapping tightly around him. 

"Sungie! You're back!" Felix exclaims, grinning brightly. "I was gonna go out looking for you, but Innie and Woojin hyung insisted you'd be okay—" Felix pauses when he catches sight of the dried tear-trails on Jisung's cheeks where his skin was smeared with dirt from wiping his eyes with soiled hands, and his slightly reddened eyes. "Are you okay…?"

Jisung smiles fondly and messes with Felix's hair as he slides into his slippers. "More than okay, Lixie," he promises, striding into the living room. As his eyes drift from one smiling face to the other, he laughs. "Guess you guys really did come back for dinner."

"We're not going to ditch you and let you eat alone," Seungmin states, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning. "And I doubt any of these idiots or Woojin hyung would turn down free food." 

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Of course not." He glances down at his dirtied hands and purses his lips. "Just let me go upstairs and clean up—I'll be down in a moment." He hurries upstairs and into the bathroom to wash his hands and his blotchy, tearstained face. As he leaves, he pauses halfway to the staircase and glances down the hallway to the door of his bedroom. Drawn down the corridor by a tug in his chest, he finds himself standing before the closed door, his heartbeat echoing in his ears and his mouth suddenly rather dry.

A moment's deliberation is all the time he needs as he rests a hand on the doorknob and pushes the door open. He steps inside and flips the lightswitch. 

It's sparsely furnished with only a shelf, bed and nightstand. To Jisung's pleasant surprise, much of the room had been left empty, providing ample space for his future projects. He eyes the spacious area, already forming a plan to convert the room into a studio. Easels here, woodwork there, pottery wheel by the window—

His mind abruptly derails from its path of thought at the sight of a very familiar looking canvas resting atop the nightstand. Jisung gasps, his eyes widening as he darts to the bedside and reaches down to touch the painting—his painting: Minho's painting. His eyes well with tears once more and he stubbornly swipes them away. "You…" Jisung murmurs with a wry smile, the greens and blues of the backdrop swimming itself into a placid lake under his watery gaze.

The last time he had seen the image, Minho's depiction seemed so sad; now Jisung could almost see the glimmers of freedom in his elegant eyes, dancing in the amateurish paint and soothing the ache in Jisung's chest with a gentle coldness that had become so familiar. A smile curls onto Jisung's lips and he runs his fingers over the face of the painting. "Wait for me," he whispers.

"Sung? You done up there? We're gonna eat without you if you don't hurry up!" Felix's voice booms through the cabin with an ever-shocking intensity. Jisung chuckles, his fingers slowing to rest on the lips of the image.

"Wait for a long time," he assures softly before spinning on his heel and running out the door. "Coming!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have the end~  
> I'll definitely miss writing this—it was a real experience for sure.  
> I hope all of you wonderful readers enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it~  
> And speaking of wonderful readers, thank you all for giving this fic a chance and supporting me throughout it. Thank you for the kudos and the kind comments, they really helped motivate me and helped me to improve areas of my writing.  
> Of course there's much much more that needs to be improved on, but for now I'll appreciate all that you wonderful readers were able to encourage me to explore.  
> I hope all of you have a wonderful new year, and I'll see you again whenever a new idea creeps up on me~


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